Dark Side of the Soul
by MorbidxAngel
Summary: This is an AU story. In order to stop a serial killer, FBI Profiler Cody Rhodes has to fight with his own inner demons to find his way into a dark soul. //COMPLETE\\
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, I'm back again! Well... after the success of Gazing into Abyss, I thought that I'd bring you another story. I had to do tons of research for this one. It's a wee bit different for Gazing into Abyss, but I hope you enjoy it all the same.**

**Disclaimer: Everything that you read within this story is fiction. I own none of the WWE Superstars or Diva's. I just own all of the original characters and some place names.**

**Chapter 1**

"…_This was the third victim found dead in Groves Park. All three were young men in their twenties, students at a local university and part of a Fraternity. Even though no official statement has been made, all signs point to the work of a serial killer…"_

"_Fratboy Killer strikes again. The dead body was found in the south of Groves Park around four am this morning. The identity of the third victim is still unknown…"_

"_Universities increased security on campus when they heard of a third victim found in Groves Park this morning. According to a press statement made only an hour ago the victim was male, Caucasian and in his twenties. He died from massive blood loss caused by various stab wounds. Like the other victims he was sexually assaulted before he was killed…_

"_Fratboy Killer fools local authorities…"_

"_FBI avoids calling these killings the work of a serial killer even though all signs point in that direction…"_

"Oh, shut up," he yelled and turned the TV off, rubbing his tired eyes. This day couldn't get any worse, that much was sure.

Cody G. Rhodes was standing in a small room inside the building of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and sighed in annoyance. Annoyance with the news and very much himself. He had been called here three weeks ago when the second victim had been found. Of course he wanted to help, but the truth was he hated to be away from Quantico.

With every mile away from home his nervousness increased immensely. Nevertheless, his suggestion to work on the case solely in theory had been denied and he had been ordered to Los Angeles. They had called him because despite his young age, Cody had a brilliant mind. He was not a field agent, but a profiler.

Currently he was the best they had. He was only twenty-three years old, yet had a natural ability to see through people and evidence. A gift that only few possessed and a gift that he had dreaded for as long as he could remember. When he had been recruited for the FBI, the discussions about him had reached from praises to deep concerns.

Concerns mostly because of Cody's past. A subject that everybody carefully avoided around him. Mike was glad they did but he wasn't a fool and knew that many people he worked with knew all about it. His file however was locked and that allowed him some peace to do his work.

Once again he stared at the dozens of photographs pinned on his wall. Surrounded by files, notes, and drawings - anything that they had collected at the crime scenes and beyond - and once again he let out a deep breath. His eyes gazing over the bodies, soaking in every detail. Their eyes were open. Forced open, to be precise.

The killer obviously wanted them to see. Despite the obvious abrasions created by a small knife and the various bruises that indicated that the victim had received severe beatings, the bodies were neatly cleaned.

"You wanted them to look their best," Cody thought as he stood up and approached the picture of the second victim.

Slowly he mumbled to himself as he always did when was trying to figure out the connection between the murders.

"You only chose pretty boys. Flawless skin, non-smokers, athletes. The perfect Abercrombie and Finch fratboy. Why them?"

"Sexual motive?" A voice behind him said out loud and he flinched.

"W…what? Oh, Officer Jericho I didn't hear you come in," he stuttered nervously and lowered his eyes.

Christopher Jericho found the Profiler peculiar. He hadn't been in this job for long, this was his first serial, and he couldn't stop wondering how someone who was so obviously insecure was supposed to crack this case. However, he trusted the system and therefore trusted Cody.

"No. Yes, he did rape them but the motive sits much deeper. Probably neglected child. Most likely an outcast in school. Possibly violated as a child. He most definitely hated them intensely. The use of severe violence indicates rage. But nothing that would explain why he wanted them to look perfect when they would be found."

Chris looked at the pictures and curiously asked: "Do you think he knew them?"

As he turned back to the photographs, Cody's mind seemed to slip; a very unwelcome side effect of his so-called gift. His voice sounded slower when he answered.

"No. I don't think so," he moved his index finger to the wrist of victim number one. "See that?"

The officer nodded and followed Cody's every word as he listened.

'They all tried to fight back. All of them showed wounds of struggle and they might even have been a little stronger than their attacker. Toxic report found traces of a high dosage of sedatives in both victims, so he needed to drug them in order to overpower them. Probably has health problems as well.'

Snapping out of the momentarily trance Cody slowly turned around. "What can I do for you?"

"Oh, sorry. They want you down at the autopsy."

Cody pulled a face but suppressed the urge of adding a childish 'Oh, no' and simply nodded. He hated nothing more than to be present during an autopsy. It wasn't that he had stomach problems. It was his past. Being in the presences of dead people brought back old memories that he would rather keep buried.

He had seen too much death throughout his childhood. Nevertheless, he was here now and he really wanted to help so he grabbed his ID card and followed Jericho down to the autopsy room. All the way down he had trouble keeping himself from shivering.

The room was as gray as a room could possibly be and for a second he wondered why that always was the case in a crime lab. He braced himself with a deep breath and approached the silver table where the victim was lying. His eyes instantly focused on his face.

Such a shame, he thought noting to himself that once again the killer had chosen a very attractive young man. The lifeless skin was bright white and flawless.

_You never hit them in the face because you want them to look pretty,_ he thought to himself trying to ignore the sickening feeling inside of him.

"Cody," Doctor Callaway said in a friendly voice and gave him an encouraging smile.

"Do we know his name?"

An assistant flipped a page on a chart board and answered: "Yes, his name is Richard, twenty-four. Student at Harvard University. He visited a wedding and was staying with a friend at the UCLA dorm rooms. Reported missing six days ago."

"Six days?" Cody raised an eyebrow and gathered all his strength to make a step forward. "Do we have a time of death, yet?"

"Deterioration of the body suggests that he hasn't been dead long. We'll know once we've finished. Nevertheless, the healing process of the skin indicates that he might have been killed approximately 48 hours ago. There are several injuries that the victim received earlier."

Cody's mind was wandering as he tried to imagine what had happened, slowly circling around the dead body. "What is this?"

The doctor pulled out a swab and grazed over the small part of skin below the victim's ear. He held it up into the light. "I don't know. We should get that to trace."

As the assistant bagged the swab, Cody leaned over the victim and squeezed his eyes. When he lifted them again he cleared his throat, knowing exactly that his request would raise suspicion. "I know this sounds a bit... crazy but could I have a moment alone?"

"That is very unusual and against protocol…"

"I know. Look, I'm sorry about this but I can see things much clearer when I'm alone."

The doctor turned his gaze and through the class and Special Agent McMahon, who was the leading officer in this case, nodded. Callaway shrugged and said. "Very well but you will be monitored."

Cody's muscles relaxed at the sound of a closing door. He didn't really care about being monitored; all he wanted was a moment with the victim because despite the fact that this man's heart was no longer beating, he might still be able to tell him something. Something about the beast that had done this to him.

Slowly he moved closer and with his gloved hand brushed through the black curls, tentatively moving his finger along the cheekbones.

"What made him hate you so much?"

His movements were tender and he could almost feel the estranged look of his colleagues. He didn't care about them, though. His hand moved carefully over the body, but he couldn't find anything new. Nothing that would give away why this had happened.

Unlike the others working on this case, Cody felt compassion for the victim. Much more than others might feel. Cold shivers ran over his spine as he tried to picture how this young man had lost his life. He was sure that the toxicology report would once again show traces of drugs inside the deceased's blood circulation.

His hands moved over the various bruises on the victim's chest and he whispered:

"You've put up quite a fight, haven't you?"

Cody was almost working in trance, his eyes closed for a second as he moved up and his mind was being overwhelmed with an image. So horrible it made him almost stumbled. He noticed the door opening and when he opened his eyes and lifted them, he stared into Agent McMahon's face.

"Everything alright?"

"Victim number three," he answered quietly. "There is no doubt that it's a serial."

"No, I guess not even the press would buy anything else by now. What can you tell me?"

The more people entering the room the more uncomfortable Cody became. All eyes were on him and he hated to be in the spotlight more than anything, he strengthened himself and started to explain.

"We're looking for a male in his mid-twenties, Caucasian. He probably has a history of violent outbursts. He's definitely insecure about his appearance. I think he may wear glasses but I maybe wrong, his body most likely is quite well built and I still believe the murderer is coping with some health problems. I think the suspect is obsessive compulsive because he always cleans his victims very thoroughly."

"He wants them to be found in a perfect state," Cody added.

Officer Jericho pulled a face, saying. "Perfect state; they're _dead."_

"That is exactly what is perfect to him, though. All of the victims could be called attractive. Or maybe a better word would be beautiful. It's obvious that this is something he never will achieve. In some way, he blames them for that. I still haven't figured out the rage. The sexual assault seems too brutal for his profile."

"He's a pervert," Chris snarled and everybody gave him a disapproving look.

"No, he's an artist," Mike suddenly said and again all eyes were on him. "Well, you see how he cleans them. Forces their eyes open. They almost look like porcelain puppets. He makes them into art once they are dead. It seems that he cares for them in such an intense way after the crime, yet he hates them so much while they are still breathing."

He scratched his head and tried to concentrate. It didn't make any sense. Why mutilate the body first and then go through so much trouble to make it pretty again? Some cuts on the second victim had even been treated in order to heal.

More to himself he murmured. "He acts like a child."

"What?"

"Well, it seems that he finds his victims and sees them as a toys. He plays with them but once they get broken, he feels sorry and tries to make them whole again. I know it doesn't sound like typical behaviour. I don't know, but it looks like it. I think he might be someone who holds on to materialistic things very intensely. Maybe, he didn't have anything else in his childhood except for some very expensive toys."

They all stared at him confused. Mainly because it was something they would never even have considered.

McMahon cleared his throat: "So you think he's a rich kid?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. He might have been close to someone with money but that doesn't necessarily mean that the toys were his own. Maybe they were out of reach but he wanted to play with them very badly. You know that envy is one of the seven deadly sins. Once it gets you, it never lets go of your heart. He probably tried compensating his loneliness with dreaming to be someone else. To 'have' what others had."

"You make it sound like we should feel sorry for that monster."

The words pulled him out of his thoughts and he blushed. Jericho didn't know. Didn't know how he had grown up and what he had seen. He was unable to form a reply and it was McMahon, one of the very few Agents who knew, that realised that this accusation might have hit him harder than the young officer would have guessed.

"Officer, we should never leave out of sight that something makes them turn into murderers. I admit I've seen some people that were born with a natural darkness but most of the time it was pain that made them snap. Only if you have the entire picture you are able to catch them."

Cody turned his gaze away and took a deep breath as Doctor Callaway leaned over the dead body with a scalpel. It was the blood that purred down the skin into the rinse of the table that made his heart scream inside and he quickly looked away.

He remembered blood. All of it. Its colour and the distinct smell. The warmth of it when it splashed on skin, mixing with tears. Anxiously he brushed through his hair and tried to keep it together, focusing on the words of the doctor as he started to work on the viscera. Measuring the weight of the organs and with skilled eyes weighing up the putrefactions.

Cody hated to be here. He hated to be witness as the body was cut. The perfect image of a human being destroyed and transformed into a meaningless puzzle. It was necessary, of course, but it didn't make it any better. Besides, it always confronted him with his past and there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

Even back in Quantico, he had tried to avoid autopsies at all costs, which had earned him quite a few visits to a psychiatrist in order to work on his issues. You can't be a criminal investigator if the thought of a dead body freaks you out, he had told himself but then again it hadn't been his choice to be here in the first place.

"Cody, I think you should get some rest," his boss said and Cody was very aware of the taxing glance the others gave him.

"Thank you," he said, not even trying to be brave. He wanted out of there. Away from the reality of death and indulge himself with the theory of it instead.

As he walked away, he could here the voice of the doctor. "Do you really think he's the best one for the job? He's just a kid and considering all the circumstances…"

The door fell into the lock and Cody was actually relieved that he wouldn't have to hear the answer. Nobody said anything as he made his way back to the office. Nobody hardly ever interacted with him at all. Even though not all of them knew, they still felt that something was different about him and there was nothing he could do to change it.

For the most part, he liked it that way. His mind worked better alone anyway. He collected some files and took most of the photographs with him. Since he did that almost every night, nobody asked questions. In the end, they all hoped that somehow this weird guy would find a way to catch the killer.

On his way to his motel room he picked up some Chinese food even though he knew he would barely eat anything. He told himself it was the thought that counted and directed his rental car into the parking lot of the Travelodge on Pico Boulevard. The room was small. Typical motel room. A small kitchen barely in use, a king size bed, which had a certain comfortable asset to it. A painting so ugly that it amused Cody every time he walked in.

Just like every other night, he transformed the room into an office and started to pin the various items he had brought with him to the wall. It felt easier to watch them all from a small distance and he had learned that it helped to go over them as often as he could. He wasn't afraid of nightmares. Because his nightmares never circled around his cases.

After having eaten two bits of his food, he felt sick and trashed it. His eyes felt heavy as he sat down at the bed and focused on the case. Piece by piece, he went through the files.

Victim #1: Robert Houghton, 23 years old. Tall, tanned and handsome. Someone Cody would definitely risk a second look would he pass him by. Surely, he would have never had the guts to actually make conversation and it kind of made him feel sad that he wouldn't have a chance now anyway.

Born in Portage, Indiana, Robert had attended the local High School and due to his qualities skipped a class in 5th grade. He had received a scholarship from three different Ivy Colleges but had decided to attend UCLA. According to teachers, Robert had been a brilliant student. Determined in every thing he started.

He had been recruited to the _Beta Crusis_ fraternity by the end of his second year. Which had probably sealed his doom, Cody thought, wondering if the Killer had been declined a brotherhood in a fraternity when he had been younger.

Robert had been straight and had been dating a young girl named Evie. She had reported him missing on October 2nd. His body had been found three days later in an isolated spot in Groves Park, near the observatory. According to the medical examiner, he had been dead for twenty-four hours.

The killer had been more hasty in the beginning. Cause of death had been a severe stab wound through the heart and Cody had always suspected that it had happened accidentally because even though all three had died of blood loss, the two victims after Robert had never received a fatal wound.

Robert had died instantly and somehow Cody could tell that it wasn't what the killer wanted. He wanted them to suffer longer. To die slower because he wanted more time.

Victim #2: Richard Martin, 21 years old. Dark haired, medium height. Handsome as well but much more delicate facial features. Very pretty and soft. Richard had been born in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. His parents had moved to California when he was sixteen.

His father had gained a small fortune by entering the open doors of Silicon Valley. When Richard turned twenty his father was CEO of a high tech computer facility and his name turned up in _Forbes_ listed under the fifty richest people in the Valley.

It had been quite a shock when Richard skipped Harvard University and decided on the Santa Clara University instead. During the investigation, it had been revealed that Richard had done this to be close to his boyfriend Daniel, who had been a suspect earlier in the case but had been cleared because he had a flawless alibi.

Christopher was part of a Fraternity called 'The Nine', the name resembling the nine muses of Apollo and the Brotherhood was known to be wildly interested in Greek Mythology. Cody had been called to Los Angeles after Richard's body had been discovered on the 5th of November.

It seemed odd for a serial killer to stay local, but apparently the killer didn't want to leave his common grounds. Richard had been in town to visit his sister and had left her on October 31 to attend a Halloween Party at the UCLA campus. Next night he had been reported missing and when he had been found it became clear to the local authorities that they had to call in the Federal Bureau of Investigation because the body was found in the exact same position as victim #1.

Cody picked up the file of the newest victim and started to read it thoroughly.

Victim #3: Edward Stedman, 24 years old. Tall, dark haired and incredibly attractive. For a second Cody closed his eyes and thought of the young dead man he had examined earlier.

Born in Oxford, England, Edward's family had moved to the states in 2001. They had moved here because his father worked at the British embassy in Washington, DC. Edward had been a student at Yale University but not a part of the known fraternities. After a talk with his former girlfriend Lisa it had turned out that he had been part of a secret society of students who called themselves 'Romantic Drama' and were mainly focused on the writings of Shakespeare.

Even though everything seemed to point out he was straight, Cody had his suspicions. This also led him to believe that maybe Victim #1 wasn't as straight as they thought. It would make sense in a way because all victims were high profile students and being gay was still not to be seen as something 'normal'.

So far, they were still collecting information on Edward, who had been invited to a wedding and stayed with a friend on the UCLA campus during his visit. He had been found yesterday, November 24th, south of Groves Park.

Cody sighed. It didn't matter that they had increased security around the Park. It was too big and too easy to access from various points and it made him feel sorry for Edward that their efforts so far hadn't been able to prevent this from happening.

He went through the things they had in common once again for what seemed like the millionth time.

All victims attractive, successful. All part of a fraternity. All dark haired. Mid-twenties and possibly homosexual. They all had been linked to the UCLA in some sort of way, which indicated the Killer had some kind of access to the Campus or at least knew his way around.

They had all died of blood loss, although victim #1 was the only one who had been killed by a fatal stab wound. All three bodies had been brutally raped and all three men received heavy beatings. They were all cleaned thoroughly afterwards. No DNA traces were left and in all three cases, the killer had used a condom.

Their hair had been washed and obviously he had taken time to bring it in order. The bodies were wrapped in plastic and brought to an isolated area of the park. The plastic was common and could be bought in every major store. It was wrapped very neatly and perfectly around them so that the faces could be seen through it.

"You wanted us to find them," Cody whispered. "Made sure we saw your work."

Rigor mortis usually hits after two to four hours after death and fades four hours later. He must have waited that long in order to make their eyes stay open. None of wounds had been enforced post-mortem.

"You cared for them, didn't you? Probably cried and mourned as well."

All three victims showed signs of defensive wounds and all three showed traces of a sedative in their blood streams.

"They weren't scared of you at first. Somehow they came very close to you," Cody said and rubbed his eyes.

"Did you seduce them?"

He didn't receive an answer nor was he expecting one. Exhaustion finally took over and he lay back, staring at the ceiling. He dreaded sleep more than anything because in that state he was unable to fight off the shadow of his own past. His body however demanded rest and he felt his eyes getting heavier.

The nightmares of Cody Rhodes always started out with the recent case. His mind going through the various files until it got lost in the unconsciousness. Like a rift in a wall darkness surfaced. Crawled up and filled it with a past he wished he could forget. There was always blood, there were always screams.

Different screams, crying out in agony and there was always a voice. A soft, familiar voice of someone he had loved so much.

"_Don't cry. You know that it has to be that way," the voice assured him. _

It was usually the moment he woke up with a scream on his own lips. A word loudly slipping from them.

NO!

Sweat pearls were dropping from his face and his heart pounded fiercely inside his chest. It always took him a few minutes to calm himself down. Focusing on the small light from the nightstand, he had to tell himself where he was and how much time had passed. Mostly he moved up and made it to the bathroom.

Splashing cold water onto his face to regain his focus. Usually he let out a deep gasp when he noticed that he had barely slept more than three hours. As much as he hated to admit it - due this very nasty haunting his dreams he had developed quite an addiction to sleeping pills.

With trembling hands, he grabbed the small bottle, popped two pills into his mouth and added some cold water to swallow them. As he stared in his reflection, hoping that his fears would somehow vanish and allow him some rest, he noticed the paleness of his face. He was definitely not as beautiful as the dead boys.

Not nearly as perfect as them. He told himself that it was the stress. That he had to resolve this case and stop the killer to take even more lives. That once he would be back home it would be better. Even though he knew that was a lie.

It would never go away entirely and all he could do was make the best of it. The truth was that the only thing he really ever did was distance himself from everybody and he never admitted that it was because he felt so ashamed. So ashamed of what he had witnessed silently without ever speaking up.

Once he had been told that he had gained this gift of seeing into a dark soul from his experiences and that he should see it as something positive because he might be able to help others. Cody hated those words so much that it made him feel even sicker. He knew how some people - the ones that knew - looked at him wondering if maybe he had that darkness in himself.

He moved out of the bathroom and crawled up under the blankets doing what he always did, every night for as long as he could remember. He cried. Cried because he couldn't erase those memories, couldn't erase his pain and the loss. If only he could sleep through one night without being confronted, he thought and faded into a restless sleep.

His nightmares now dampened down by the medication but still there to remind him. Mixed with details of the case which swirled around his head and he wondered who that person was that was capable of such cruelty, wondering if that person was in just as much pain as he was.

"You want to be caught. You want it to end, that's why you never hide the bodies. I'll find you," he whispered to himself before his mind shut down.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

'_**I never knew where I was going, I never knew what I was doing…that's why you never nailed me…you never knew' – Albert Henry De Salvo aka The Boston Strangler**_

"Cody?"

Tiredly he lifted his eyes and raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"Boss wants to talk to you. He's in the practice room."

Great, he thought feeling uncomfortable. Two weeks had passed since the discovery of the third victim and they had nothing. Sure a nice profile but nothing that would bring them any closer to finding the killer. Time was against them and Cody knew that it wouldn't be long until another young man would become a victim.

On his way downstairs, he tucked his shirt in his pants and tried to make his impression a bit more sophisticated. A slight glance into a glass window however made it clear that his mission was pointless. He still looked like a hacker who had spent too much time locked up in a room.

His face showed clear signs of exhaustion. Cody knew that he wasn't eating enough but there was not much he could do. Some days he felt like drifting and he hated that feeling. He wanted to bring this guy behind bars and go back to his home. He missed the safe surroundings.

He flinched as six loud shots went off in the room and shook his head, approaching Agent McMahon in the Shooting booth.

"You wanted to see me?" He asked and moved nervously from one foot to the other.

Taking off the ear protection the older man turned around to face him. He looked tired. His face, however, was trained to hide emotions quite well. Yet, the few gray hairs seemed to shine through more intensely lately and Cody wondered how old McMahon was.

"Give me something, Cody. Anything."

Burying his hands inside his pockets Cody lowered his eyes saying in a quite voice. "I've already given you a full profile."

The Agent let out a deep sigh. "You've given us a profile, yeah. But what we need is something to catch this guy. Honestly, right now I don't care if he was a neglected child I wanna know _where_ he is."

"I'm sorry," Cody said, wishing himself away.

"Don't be sorry. Use your mind. I know you can figure it out," McMahon said with an encouraging smile that had no effect on Cody's miserable mood.

"I really don't know what you want from me. I've done all I can."

Concern lay in the Agent's eyes as he carefully asked, "Have you been sleeping enough?"

Oh, great it's going to be a pep talk, Cody thought and braced himself. "Have you?"

"Touché!" He replied and winked at him.

After a moment of awkward silence Cody cleared his throat and sighed, saying, "I'd better go and look at the files again."

"I think you should take the day off."

"What? Excuse me but you just said…"

"I know what I said, Cody. But you don't look so good and I need your mind fresh and awake."

It almost amused Cody. Not only the words but also the way in which they were said. Obviously, this man knew nothing about him because where would he go? He was definitely not a beach kind of person and not very interested in Los Angeles famous sights. It caused him some restrain to swallow a remark. Instead, he shook his head.

"I'm fine. I wouldn't know what to do anyway."

Agent McMahon could not recall to have seen a young boy like Cody surrounded by such a dark cloud. It was painted on his face, written in every single movement. When he heard that Cody would be transferred, he expected him to be different but not that quiet. Somehow, he had expected someone else.

"This is Hollywood, I'm sure you'll find some things to do." When Cody made a face and McMahon added, "That's an order. You're relieved of duty for today. Go out, have some fun. And _eat_ something."

Unsure of what to do Cody stared at him in disbelief. "Okay, fine. What are _you_ doing for relaxation?"

Holding up the gun his boss winked at him again. "This. Wanna try?"

"Oh, no thanks. There is a reason why I'm not a field agent. I majorly failed target practice."

"Maybe you should pick it up one day," were the last words before the Agent turned around again and Cody bit his lip as he left the room.

It wasn't even noon and he had no idea what to do with the free time. His eyes gazed over the crime scene photographs and suddenly he had an idea. He grabbed his jacket and walked out of the door.

On his way to the campus, he got himself a Starbucks coffee and a muffin, knowing that he wouldn't eat it anyway. He parked his rental car in the campus car park and walked towards the huge building of UCLA. Due to his age, he blended into the crowd and found himself a quiet spot from where he could oversee the entrance to the library.

His eyes carefully searched through the students entering and leaving, he watched them with a skilled view and some of them would be in awe how well he could see through them. The way they moved, talked, smiled, walked. They were not aware that they were being watched.

Nobody even looked at the stranger. It wasn't surprising to him at all. They were all occupied with life. Cody never went to a normal college. The FBI recruited him right after High school and even if that hadn't happened, he probably wouldn't have gone anyway.

Young people tended to ask questions and he had learned the hard way that people were easily scared. Especially when they found out about his secret. He wasn't very social and only had one semi friendship with a guy his age. Ted was the son of his foster parents and the two boys got along well.

But that was mostly because Ted knew when to leave him alone. Cody only once was in a sort of a relationship with a senior in high school. Ironically, he never had a problem with his homosexuality. However living it out had turned out to be a bit harder then the acceptance of it itself.

The boy quickly lost interest in Cody when it was clear that he was not exactly 'up for a party' and since they barely even saw each other outside of school it was over so fast that it wasn't even worth mentioning. Cody was okay with that. At least he had somewhat tried it.

The usual fast sex experiences a trademark of the gay community had never interested him and the fear of having himself exposed was holding him trapped inside his room. Neither Ted, nor his foster parents could change that.

Quantico was the only place where he felt a bit more at ease. It was helping that everyone there thought him to be brilliant even though he highly doubted that. He liked working for the FBI. Focusing on cases gave him a peace he had never known before. Putting together the pieces of a puzzle was usually soothing and came very easy to him.

He didn't have 'friends' there either but the people he worked with respected him for what he could do. Cody wished to be back because everything here seemed so much harder. Even the puzzle had gotten more complicated and so far, he was unable to solve it.

As he observed the students his mind was already back on the case wondering what he had missed. He was so deep in his thoughts that he didn't even notice the woman approaching him from behind and almost spilled his coffee when she spoke.

"Excuse me?"

One look at her and Cody wanted to flee the scene. There was no doubt about it she was a journalist and those were a race of people he had come to hate vividly throughout his life.

"Yes," he said slowly and lifted his eyes.

"Hi, my name is Beth Phoenix. I work for CNN and if I remember correctly I saw you with Agent McMahon last week. You know... at the press conference?"

It wasn't a press conference. It was a dozen journalists gathered in front of the Bureau harassing everyone who walked in and everyone who came out until McMahon finally made a statement. Unfortunately she was right, Cody had tried to sneak into the building that day and therefore he nodded slightly.

"So, you're an Agent?" Her voice sounded way too friendly and Cody was not very amused when she sat next to him pulling out a tape recorder.

"You don't really expect me to answer any of your questions, do you?"

She gave him a fake smile of innocence and her voice sounded like the melody of the wrong song. "Don't you think the public have a right to know? I mean three young men are already dead."

The famous it's all for the public line, Cody thought and made a face. "I have to go."

Now it was her turn to make a face and Cody felt the strong urge to smash the tape recorder on her head as she said, "One statement, that's all I'm asking for."

He turned his gaze away from her and gave her the answer by simply shaking his head. Right at that moment, his eyes noticed something he hadn't before and his heart jumped with an idea. Unfortunately his cell-phone rang right at the same moment he wanted to leave and because of the discovery he just made Cody didn't think when he answered the phone.

"Rhodes. Oh, hi…uhm, listen this is a bad time. Can I call you back?"

Cody pressed a button and blushed when she asked, 'Girlfriend?'

"No and none of your business," he answered quickly and collected his stuff. She watched him almost running away from her and narrowed her eyes.

"Rhodes? Why does that name sound so familiar?"

While Beth Phoenix tried to find an answer Cody was already half way to his car, dialling the number of the office. He trashed his muffin whilst he waited for someone to answer.

"It's Cody, listen can you tell me something? Did all of the victims have tattoos?"

* * *

Tattoos were all that was in his head on his way back to work. The thought came to him as he had observed a young guy showing off his new tattoo and on the back of his head, he remembered something similar on all of the victims. It might be random but it's all he had right now.

Luckily, he had, of course taken the pictures with him and whilst he was sitting in his car, he stared at the dead bodies. All three had in fact had a tattoo. Victim #1 on his shoulder, #2 on his right arm and #3 on his chest. Different, yet oddly familiar. Some sort of tribal sign. He called the office again. His fingers nervously drumming against the steering wheel.

He asked for the lab and a male voice answered.

"You did test the substance found on the third victim? What was it?"

Whilst he listened to the answer he stared at the pictures again wondering if he was overreacting but somehow he could feel that he had found another piece of the puzzle.

"Traces of Iron Oxide, Carbon and Logwood? Did you check what it's for?"

He knew the answer before the lab tech gave it to him.

Ink. Black.

Damn, how could I overlook that, he thought and almost crashed his car whilst he searched for the fastest way to get back. This had to mean something.

"What are you going to tell me?" He mumbled to the ghost he was hunting.

While Cody almost hyperventilated as he told Agent McMahon that the killer most likely had something to do with the art of tattooing Beth Phoenix typed the name Rhodes into her search engine. Different sites popped up giving her information that made her face blush and her ears ring.

Her eyes widened after only fifteen minutes and she breathlessly called her assistant.

"Holy shit. Ken you've got to see this."

The young blond man was glad for any distraction since he was bored out of his mind and rolled to her on his chair.

"What am I supposed to see?"

"I told you about the Agent I saw at UCLA today?"

"Yes."

"His name is Cody Garrett Rhodes," she said secretively and he gave her a puzzled look.

"So?"

"Rhodes is the maiden name of his mother. However, he wasn't born with that name," Beth enjoyed nothing more than the confusion on Ken's face because she couldn't wait to see him understanding.

"Have you been in the sun too long? I don't get it. What's his birth name then?"

"Chilton," was her answer.

"Okay, sounds British but what is so crazy about it?"

She grinned broadly and added, "He was born in New York."

"Would you stop it and tell me what's going on. Jesus Christ!" Ken snapped massaging his temples.

"Does the name Edward B. Chilton, ring a bell?"

Ken stared at her and thought hard before he carefully said, "It sounds familiar."

"Well, it should. Think harder."

As revelation rushed through him his face lit up and excitedly he almost jumped from the chair. "Oh my God. Holy shit."

"Stop the religious outbursts and focus," she snarled, annoyed. Granted he wasn't doing this job long but she would have expected him to be a bit cooler about it. Even though her own heart was racing fiercely in her chest and she knew that the second she would present that discovery to her boss she would not only get a raise but probably everything else she would ask for.

"You're kidding right?"

"Nope. Cody Rhodes is the son of the East Coast Slasher."

"Oh, my God," Ken cried out moving up from his chair and leaned over her keyboard.

"I cannot believe this. Fuck, I remember that case."

She nodded and her finger trailed over the old newspaper images on her screen.

"Chilton killed twenty-one women in six years. All housewives, all mid-thirties. He slashed their throats from right to left and his son was with him at every single crime scene."

"I know. It was in every newspaper. They even had a discussion if the kid should be charged for accessory to murder," Ken spat out in an agitated voice barely able to follow Beth's voice as she went on.

"Cody was five when it started. Can you believe it?"

"How the hell did he end up at the FBI? Shouldn't he be in a nuthouse or something?"

With a blushing face, Beth stared at her screen. "I don't know yet but I will find out. This is fucking brilliant. Do you know what this means for the story? This is going to be my masterpiece!"

"When are you going on air with this?"

"As soon as I gather a few more facts. I'm hoping to make the evening news."

They both grinned and Ken shook her by the shoulders. "Bethy, Bethy you are my goddess!"

Neither of them cared how Cody would react to it.

* * *

The young profiler was deep in his thoughts researching everything that can be researched on tattoos. He scrolled the pages up and down and was not aware that outside his office everyone stared motionless at the TV screen where a young journalist started to expose his identity.

It was Agent McMahon who finally knocked on his door.

He was still focusing on his research and mumbled barely audibly, "I think I found something that…"

"Cody," his boss said softly and the sound of the voice made him lift his eyes.

He really didn't know how to tell him. He felt responsible and wished that he would have been more careful. It was too late anyway and so he simply said, "Turn on the TV."

The way the request was made sent a cold shiver down his spine but Cody complied and focused on the small screen flickering to life. As if someone had put an iron blanket around his shoulder he sunk into his chair watching motionless as the same woman he had seen this morning talk about him.

In contrast to what McMahon expected Cody didn't angrily rise up but let out a deep gasp. "It's my fault. I answered with my last name."

"…_.The east-coast Slasher tied his victims to a kitchen table and slashed their throats.."_

"I'm sorry,' the older Agent said feeling incredibly guilty.

Cody scratched his head and tried a smile. "It's not your fault. I guess it was only a matter of time."

"_The young boy was witnessed all of the brutal murders and according to his statement in trial helped to clean the crime scene…"_

He hated the sound of her voice. Objective and accusing at the same time. A distinct sound as only reporters could possess. She left it to the public to judge whether Cody should be working for the FBI or locked up somewhere. Making a remark that it was truly amazing that he was now working on the other side of the crime but also didn't forget to raise concern about his mental abilities.

She used words like 'inner scars' to paint a picture of Cody that was only partly representing him but he couldn't even be really angry. It was just making him feel exhausted. Even though a part of him always knew that eventually his life would be back in the news he had secretly hoped that he would never have to deal with the press.

Cody was not able to react in any way. There was nothing he could or wanted to say so, he just blankly stared at the screen and his chest tightened with every word.

"…_Chilton has been sentenced to death but was granted pardon in the late nineties. His sentence got reduced to lifetime in prison and he's currently held in the New York state prison, according to the files Cody has not visited is father since he got sentenced…"_

He was not really aware that more people had entered his office giving him looks of either compassion or shock.

"…_It was made clear in court that he was never mistreated by his father and Cody himself called him a very loving person…"_

The screen flickered and the image changed. It was then that he felt a wave of tears surfacing and it caused him all his strength to hold them back. He was dragged into a different time as he watched a man in an orange suit dragged down the stairs with his hands handcuffed.

It was reaching him very slowly and it was almost strange to notice himself standing behind him. A woman had an arm wrapped around his shoulders. He was twelve and he was crying. Everyone inside the room who was old enough remembered the scene as the man turned around and reached out for him.

They didn't know the words he spoke to his son they only saw as he tenderly stroked Cody's cheeks and was quickly pulled away. Pulled out of his life forever. Cody not only remembered the words, he remembered the crowd. Dozens of people with signs either wanting his father dead or alive.

He remembered the flashlights lighting up his skin and the hundreds of questions he didn't even understand. Like it was yesterday, he remembered his emotions, though. Utterly confused about all of it. Shame and loss. He started hating the press back on that day because they wouldn't let it go.

Now they were back and out to haunt him. Analyse him and judge him by what they think they knew.

Someone cleared his throat. "Sir, they are here. I don't think he should be using he main entrance."

Of course, they were here, he thought and tiredly rubbed his eyes.

* * *

Somewhere in the city of Angels someone else was staring at the screen. With a head leaned to the side that person was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. He felt something changing profoundly.

He was not sure if he welcomed change because he liked order in his life. Everything around him was neatly organized. He made a hushing sound when another voice floated through the room. A whimper that distracted him from the screen.

Usually nothing could pull his mind away from his work. However, the image of that boy crying because his father was pulled away from him had taken him in such a heavy way that he almost forgot what he was about to do.

It was the compassion for a monster that sparked his interest.

* * *

**Thanks to my review: **_Animal Luvr 4 Life, Tina, wrestlefan4_ **and** _Dark Kaneanite_

**The next chapter will be up in a couple of days.**

**Loves ya!**

**Angel  
xxx**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"_**There is no happiness without tears, no life without death. Beware! I'm going to make you cry." – Lucian Staniak aka The Red Spider**_

_The cat was the first soul in the house to become aware of them. Even though they had the sirens turned off with its high senses the animal reacted to the five approaching cars. Its ears pricked up as they came closer. The boy was sleeping relatively peacefully. From time to time, his body tensed under his nightmares but usually his mind would sooth him back to sleep quickly. _

_He was actually resting a lot more comfortably than usual because it was the first time in a long while that he was lying in a proper bed. Even though he knew that this wouldn't last long he had allowed his body to adjust. His cat's name was 'Curly' and it was surely one of the laziest animals in the world. _

_It was also his only friend aside from his father. They moved a lot and the cat didn't even need confinement but would just lazily lie on the backseat when the pick up truck that was more a home for Cody than a house was on the move. There was no point in even attempting to have friends because they never stayed long enough to form meaningful relationship. Besides, Cody didn't want to interact with other children. _

_Why bother getting to know someone when you'll be moving away faster than a flap of a butterfly? Cody had learned to live from one moment to the next and tried hard to ignore his fears and doubts. The cat moved and as it jumped off of the bed its tail grazed the back of his hand. _

_The boy didn't react and was unaware that his life was about to drastically change. He didn't notice that the door to his room opened and someone sat next to him. It was his father. The older man watched his sleeping child for a short more before softly stroking over his cheeks and whispered his name to wake him up._

"_Cody, wake up."_

_Slowly his young body started to react and he opened his eyes, gazing sleepily at his father. In his drowsy state of mind he blinked and noticed that his room was lightened up by lights. Red and blue shadows moved steadily over the walls and his chest tightened as he locked eyes with his dad._

_Cody was not stupid and realized instantly what those lights meant. Cold shivers ran down his spine as his father started to talk to him in a soft and calming voice. _

"_They are here to take me away."_

_Fear crawled up inside the young heart because he was confronted with the sins of his father. Sins he had desperately tried to ignore for such a long time. Those men outside were about to take his father away and he had seen enough TV shows, had heard enough in school to know that they would probably judge his dad with the death penalty. Right or wrong in the eyes of the law, through Cody's eyes that was something he couldn't bear._

_The facial expression of his father was confusing him because Edward Chilton didn't seem to be afraid. He looked oddly calm. Cody reacted instinctively and moved up babbling frantically. _

"_We have to run. We have to hide…"_

_He was interrupted by his dad, who wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close, whispering into his ear. _

"_I want you to stay up here and wait for them," he spoke very carefully and tightened his grip when Cody tried to fight him off. "Shhh, listen to me. When they ask you questions I want you to tell them everything. You hear me? Everything. Don't lie to them."_

"_No," Cody shouted and pushed his father away: "They are going to…they…"_

"_I'm sorry for what I've done to you," his father said and a silent tear dropped from his eyes. _

_With that the older man stood up and repeated his request in a fatherly demand. "Stay up here, Cody. Don't resist and don't lie."_

_Voices suddenly disturbed the silence calling out his father's name from the outside. Cody's heartbeat was racing at dangerously fast and he jumped off the bed and wrapped his arms around his father's waist. _

"_Don't go. Don't leave me."_

_His father softly took his hands and kneeled before him. "You are going to be fine. You are free now."_

_Free? He'd never felt trapped and therefore couldn't make sense of the words. Cody was too young to understand that his father was relieved. That his dad was happy that they finally found them. That it was over. _

_When his father turned around to leave him, he started to cry and pleaded for him to stay. Yet, Edward Chilton didn't turn around, for he couldn't bear the sight of his son. Deep in his own sorrow, he wasn't able to stop the cat from using the opportunity to flee the room and he screamed out for Cody as his son followed. _

_Cody had not thought about the consequences when he frantically screamed out his cat's name. His mind was no longer capable of rational thoughts. He was overwhelmed with uncontrollable emotions and the thought of losing his cat as well as his dad made him react on pure instinct. _

'_Curly' had used the cat-door to the backyard and Cody pushed it open and ran. The skin of his naked feet ripped apart by the stinging rocks of the ground as he followed his cat. He breathed heavily in and out and tried to simply ignore the voices and the lights. The cold air grazed over his skin and crawled through his pyjama as his eyes searched in panic for the animal. _

_He was not aware of the two FBI Agents behind him. An inhuman sound escaped his lips when he was pushed on the ground and felt a knee brutally pressed against his spine. Tears started pouring out of him as his arms were forcefully bent backwards and he screamed when the Agent accidentally dislocated his shoulder during the procedure. _

_They were saying something that he couldn't understand. His mind had completely shut down and he was only able to let out incoherent breathless sounds that didn't make any sense to either of the Agents. He wet himself when they turned him around and started to scream into his face. _

_Hands painfully restraining him and he could not focus on a single thought. He was trembling so intensely that his teeth were chattering. In the back of his head, he could hear a voice._

"_I've got him. I've got that fucker."_

_Cody was blinded by the lights suddenly pointed in their direction. He was coughing and almost choked on his erratic breathing, whimpering from the pain slicing through his body from the injured shoulder. _

"_Brent, stop it. Stop it. Fuck, he's a kid. He's just a kid."_

The ash of his cigarette dropped on the carpet yet Cody didn't care. His eyes stared blankly at the black screen of the TV. Caught up with memories he was barely even smoking. Memories he hadn't allowed himself to remember were now crashing back into his mind.

He would never forget the moment they picked him up and brought him to the waiting cars. All eyes lay on him. They didn't expect a child to be present and the sight of the scared boy was shocking to all of them. He could still remember his father's sad eyes as they handcuffed him and took him away.

It was all coming back and Cody wished himself dead. He had to leave the office through the car park. Officer Jericho was the one who drove him back to the motel and the whole drive Cody hated the awkwardness and the curious glances of the young cop. He was only slightly reacting when McMahon told him that two officers would, from now on, be staying in the room next to his.

A precaution not only for the possibility that the press would find out where he was staying but because it was routine. Cody's name had been all over the news and from previous experiences; the Bureau was now worried that the killer would turn his focus on him.

Although Cody highly doubted he would be of interest to him at all. He was neither successful nor attractive and basically a giant failure. At least that's how he felt as he was sitting on the bed. Tired yet unable to sleep, hungry yet unable to eat.

Staring at the crime scene pictures he had brought with him again, because despite everything that's been going on, there was still a killer on the loose, he whispered, "Guess we're both hunted now."

He had deliberately ignored all phone calls he received. The last thing he wanted was to talk to this foster parents let alone his psychiatrist because nothing they could say would have a comforting affect on him. What bothered him most was that he was confronted with his past again and all his efforts to forget had been wiped away.

Cody had grown accustomed to being invisible to the world outside and hated nothing more than to be dragged back into this. He just knew that letters would float in by tomorrow. Of course, he wouldn't open them because he was convinced he'd already read all of them a dozen of times.

Mostly they didn't mean anything. From sick admiration to compassion and yet all of them faceless. When he lived with his foster parents, every now and then a different sort of letter would reach him. Husbands, sons and daughters, nephews and grandchildren. Those were the ones that caused him pain because he couldn't blame them for their words.

Nevertheless, he hated everyone else trying to get a glimpse at him. He hated the questions even more. Those stupid questions he couldn't answer.

"_Why did you never say anything?"_

What the hell was he supposed to answer to that? How could he possible explain why he never did? Despite his brilliant mind, he was never able to profile himself. Up to this day, he had never found a reasonable explanation. His life was a mess and because of it, everything came back crashing inside his mind, breaking down the so carefully built up walls.

In the back of his head, he could still hear that reporters voice as she told the million viewers that Cody had never visited his father not knowing that in the beginning that hadn't been his decision. The grown-ups in his life had made that for him, saying that it would be too stressful and regardless of his pleading did not allow him to visit his father.

Thinking back, Cody was glad and when he was old enough to make that decision for himself, he chose to stay away. Because what could he possibly say? There was nothing. Nothing that would be helping him to overcome that dreadful past. There was nothing his father could say that would take away the nightmares, nothing that would give him back his childhood.

There was no one else in the world he loved more than his father.

There was no one else in the world that he hated more than him as well. If _he_ couldn't understand than how could the rest of the world? If only he would be able to point the direction of his memories to the good parts of those years.

Tiredly he shook his head and brushed through his hair. He was doomed to remember because if the world couldn't forget why should he? Besides maybe he deserved this. Maybe he deserved even more punishment for the sins of his father because he did nothing to prevent it.

He wanted to sleep so badly that he almost cried out in agony when he stretched out on the bed knowing that he wouldn't be able to close his eyes and simply drift away. Deep inside, he was too scared. Instead, he concentrated on the case. His eyes gazed over the tattoos of the victims and he tried to make a connection.

Cody made notes, looked through the file until the sun came up. He sighed and closed the folder. Tiredly he moved to the bathroom and stared into his reflection. Dark shadows surrounding his eyes. He shrugged because he couldn't change that and started to clean himself up.

He didn't want to go to the office today. He was not ready to face them, yet he wanted this case solved and therefore picked up the phonebook and flipped through the pages. When he found what he was looking for he ripped off the page and dressed himself. Despite his efforts, neither his shirt nor his tie looked in order but he decided not to care.

Carefully he opened the door and found himself face to face with an officer, who nodded at him.

"Good morning," the slightly opulent man said and gave him a puzzled look when Cody passed him.

"Excuse me, but I have orders to escort you to the office."

"I'm not going to the office today. I have to check something out."

"I really don't think that is a good idea with everything that's been going on…"

"Listen, Officer I'm an adult and I'm very capable of taking care of myself. I'll check in with the bureau on my way. If you get in trouble blame it on me," Cody simply stated and pulled out his car keys.

It was a smart thing that they brought his rental car back here, he thought and started the engine.

Cody knew that he was about to do something that surely would be considered stupid. Very stupid and dangerous to be accurate yet he needed to do something. In addition, he always worked better on his own. His mind was playing around with the possibilities of what could happen.

After a twenty-minute drive, he directed his car to a small parking lot. Before he opened the door, he took a deep breath and braced himself. He felt confident enough to do this or maybe stupid enough.

His heart was racing fast as he entered the 'Moore Ink. Tattoo studio' which according to the phone book was the closet to the UCLA campus. His eyes instantly started to absorb every detail. The walls covered by various motifs, the counter was painted black. Everything looked clean and organized.

On a small chair behind the counter was an older guy sitting with his shirt lifted over his head. Even though his skin was apparently being ripped apart by a small needle, he didn't flinch but only gave Cody a bored uncaring look. The sound of the tattoo needle hummed steadily and Cody took a closer look at the young man who was working his art.

He was not very tall with dark hair. The sides of his head were neatly shaved, his skin pale and his thin arms filled up with various pictures. Cody noticed the black tattoo's that adorned his arms and his body reacted with a shiver when the man lifted his eyes.

"I'll be with you in a moment, just take a look around," he said with a calm voice and focused back on his work.

It was taking Cody completely by surprise that he felt attracted to him. For all he knew that man could be a suspect yet he had trouble to take his eyes off him. His mind soaked up every detail. Dressed all in black, steady hand, confident. It took him strength to turn around and look at the various tattoo possibilities.

The customer, who looked like a biker and already had quite a collection of tattoos spread out over his body moved up with a grunt and checked his shoulder in the mirror.

"Nice work, Jeff."

Quietly Cody watched as the biker paid and listened to their small talk. He tried to look occupied when the customer left the shop. It was making him very uncomfortable that this guy obviously had quite an effect on him because it was distracting him from the reason why he was here.

However, when he risked another look he found himself staring into those green eyes and noticed the curiosity that lay in them.

"Hey, aren't you that guy from TV?"

It was more than unpleasant that he was so easily exploited and it freaked him out that he was asked about his identity in such a bluntly way.

"Yes, that's me. I'm Agent Cody Rhodes," he started to build up a connection and stretched out his hand, adding, "May I ask you some questions?"

Amused over the way Cody was trying to switch the subject he raised an eyebrow and shook his hand, saying, "Depends on what you are asking."

"I was wondering if you could help me out. I need some information on your art." Cody replied deliberately using the word art in order to observe his reaction.

"Okay, why don't we sit down? My name is Jeffrey by the way but you can call me Jeff," he said and slowly moved around the counter.

Cody watched every move Jeffrey made and noticed the slight arrogance that lay in every step as he approached him. His body was slender and his eyes were sparked with something he couldn't quite point out. It could be natural confidence it could be general interest.

The way Jeffrey let himself sink into the small leather couch created a tickle inside him that he quickly pushed aside. However, he had to admit that he found him handsome. There was a certain dominance that shined through him and Cody had to strengthen himself before he was able to start with his questions:

"So, Jeffrey…"

"Jeff, call me Jeff. Everybody does. Only my mom calls me Jeffrey," he said with a smile on his face.

"Okay, Jeff. How long have you been working here?"

"About four years, why? Am I a suspect?" Jeff asked with an amused grin that made his face glow in a breathtaking way.

"I don't know yet," Cody replied diplomatically and started to feel unease. He had never done this before. He wasn't a field agent and he knew that he shouldn't be doing it yet he couldn't suppress the urge to go on with it. "What do you know about the case?"

"Which one? Yours or that Fratboy case?"

Cody had trouble hiding his puzzlement over that question.

"The Fratboy case," he said hoping his voice wouldn't betray him.

Jeff leaned back in a relaxing way. "Only that it's not exactly safe for cute Fratboys to be around Groves Park," he answered with an uncaring voice.

"You find them... cute?"

"You don't?" A seductive smile lit up his face and Cody blushed.

"They could be called attractive."

"I'd do them. Oh, well I would have done it with them. Unfortunately, that's no longer an option. Such a shame," Jeff said with something that could be called compassion waving with his voice.

"You're homosexual?" Cody asked wondering if he was face to face with a serial killer.

As a reply Jeff laughed and added, "Yeah, I like guys. Just like you."

"W-what makes you say that?" Cody was startled and very aware that this guy was flirting with him.

"Oh, just my radar. You're cute. You're interesting. How was it growing up with a killer?"

It was going too far and it was certainly not something Cody wanted to talk about. Trying to focus on why he was here he braced himself and shook his head. "Not something I like to discuss. Let alone with a stranger."

Jeff leaned his head to the side and gave him an intense stare before he shrugged and sunk back. "I see. Fine, Cody then how about you do your job and ask me some more questions."

"Do you have a lot of college boys coming in?" Just when the words were out, he cursed himself for choosing such a poor form and his face burned when Jeff smirked at him.

"All the time. Best customers actually," he replied not remarking the obvious.

"Really?"

"Hell yeah, college kids are great. They are young, careless and away from home and getting inked is a great way to pretend to be cool. We even give out flyers at the campus."

"So, you've been to the campus advertising your business?"

Jeff suddenly seemed almost bored and whilst he fumbled out a cigarette, he said, "It's not 'my' business but yeah. Every tattoo studio does it. It's a competition. I don't know who started it, though. We just give out flyers or make connections, y'know spreading the word."

"Whose business is it?"

"Shanny owns the shop. His real name is Shannon Moore but he's barely here. And now let me ask you a question; why is that so important?"

Deciding that he would be getting better results if he would come forward, Cody went against protocol. Even though his orders clearly stated that the subject of Tattoos was not to be discussed with anyone on the outside, he pulled out three photographs from the folder he brought with him.

The images were only showing the motives nothing more and he gave them to Jeff, who looked at them thoroughly.

"Good works. Those are custom made," he stated giving the pictures back.

"Custom made?"

"You won't find them in any of the folders. They were made from scratch. Somebody drew them. So, those were on the Fratboys?"

"Yes," Cody answered distracted whilst his mind was already wrapping around the information.

"So, you think the killer inked them? I guess that really makes me suspect," his voice did not sound worried but amused.

Cody locked eyes with him. "I guess it does."

Jeff grinned again and leaned forward growling with a thick voice. "Shouldn't you be afraid then?"

He felt his heart pounding faster and shivered but held his gaze. "I'm not afraid."

"You know what? I don't think you should even be here. You don't strike me as the kind of guy who does interrogations."

"You think this is an interrogation?" Cody conquered and searched for any signs that would tell him whether this man could be capable of inflicting pain on others.

"I don't know. You're the agent; you tell me," Jeff replied and his eyes sparked with joy.

A joy Cody couldn't see through. It was obvious that this guy was playing with him but he wasn't sure what the reason behind it was. Once again, he cursed himself for even coming here in the first place. He couldn't deny that he felt drawn to him in a very unprofessional way.

The fact that he was unable to see through him was nagging on him. He wasn't fitting the profile. He seemed too arrogant too sure of himself too relaxed yet he could not be ruled out only by those characteristics.

"I think that was it, thank you for your time," Cody suddenly said wanting to get out of this place as fast as he could.

The disappointment was painted on Jeff's face as he said. "You're done? That was quick, Cody. Why so hasty?"

"I have the answers to my questions."

"You have? You haven't even asked me about an alibi. I think you are not doing a very good detective job here," Jeff said and shook his head in a disapproval gesture.

Dumbfounded, Cody stared at him and he struggled with his words, "I…I just wanted to ask you some questions about tattoos."

Jeff crossed his arms in front of his chest and curled his lips. "Cody, Cody what are you doing? You come in here, you ask me some questions, you reveal certain details of the case and now you just want to leave? I wonder what your boss would think of that. I don't think you're ready for fieldwork. If I'm the killer you are looking for you just gave me a lot of information to use."

"Maybe I don't think you are a suspect," Cody said unsure of himself. He hated that this guy was reading him like that. Mostly because he was right. McMahon would freak out when he would hear about this. _God, I'm such an idiot_, he thought and bit his lips feeling like a child.

"Let me make it easier for you. I'm not the killer. I was in Miami when the first boy was killed and in New Orleans when the second one lost his young life."

"Am I supposed to believe that just because you are telling me this?"

"Ah, clever reply. No, of course not Agent Rhodes. Both times I was at Tattoo conventions and you are free to check that out," he said and pulled out his ID card, "That would be Jeffrey Nero Hardy, Sir."

Cody didn't know what to think. A part of him liked the idea that this guy would have an alibi and therefore would not be the killer yet he was still mistrusting. Besides even if he would be cleared of suspicion Cody still felt uncomfortable around him. He moved up and simply mumbled, "Thank you. I will check that out. In the meantime it would be good if you would not discuss any details of the case."

Cody's heart stopped beating for a short moment when Jeff moved up as well and leaned so close to him that he could feel his breath grazing over his skin.

"I promise. It's our little secret. You should come back, though," he whispered lasciviously and Cody felt the hair on the back of his neck standing up.

"Why should I?"

"Because I can make you relax," he growled and trailed around him. "Pleasure, Cody, is something you shouldn't deny yourself."

The words crashed through him and he reluctantly moved away. This was not what he expected when he walked in the Tattoo store and it was completely overwhelming him. Jeff was so bluntly making a move on him that Cody felt even more insecure. Even though a part of him wanted to give in.

Nevertheless, that would be so wrong on so many levels that he couldn't even begin to imagine it. He was an Agent working on a high profile case and Jeff, even if he wasn't a suspect would fall under the category that meant no personal involvement whatsoever. Not to mention Cody's lack of experiences with that kind of involvement.

He needed to leave this place now. Moreover, he probably should drive back to the office and confess his stupid mistake of taking on that task alone. He should definitely not come back here and there was no doubt that he should not feel the way he was feeling right now. Cody blamed it on his lack of sleep and vitamins that he felt so ready to give in to this guy.

"I don't think that is a good idea and now I better leave," Cody said quietly.

"You'll be back," Jeff said with a broad smile and moved back to give him room.

"I highly doubt that but thank you very much for your help."

Cody was still shaking when he got into his car. From now on, he would stick to the protocol and he sincerely hoped that he hadn't messed anything up yet. Stick to the protocol and more importantly stick to the theory of the case because obviously he was not a good field agent.

As his car passed the Tattoo shop, he spotted Jeff standing behind the glass door and quickly turned his gaze away.

* * *

"You did WHAT?" McMahon was furious.

"I'm sorry," Cody said tiredly.

"What on earth made you do that? You're not a field agent for god's sake. Cody, this guy could have been our killer."

"I don't think so. He's excessively secure for that. Too confident," Cody mumbled without impressing his boss.

"Well, you didn't know that when you walked in there. Are you crazy? You don't even have a weapon. Look, I know this is hard for you…"

Cody rolled his eyes and surprisingly found himself angrily snarling. "You know nothing. I fucked up and I know that. So how about you simply fire me?"

"Ah, so that's what's behind this. You wanna run. Well, I'm sorry but you are still the best guy for the job. If you want to leave so desperately, I suggest you use your mind and solve this goddamn case. There is a killer around, Cody and he's not stopping. Do your job and stop searching for the easy way out."

_Asshole_, he thought when McMahon left his office. However his boss might be right, though and it bugged him that he couldn't see it before. He wanted out of this. Angrily he moved around the small room and tried to avoid looking at the pile of mail. As he feared the letters dropped in like an unstoppable flood.

The press was outside the building and he had to sneak in and out. His face was still on every channel and he'd had just about enough of it. He stopped his restless pacing in front of the pin wall.

"Where the hell are you?" He said frustrated.

His mind was not working as it should and it was confusing him. Too caught up with the odd conversation that he had with Jeff and memories of his past he was not able to focus on the case. It was making him even angrier and in his anger, he kicked against the table right at the moment when McMahon opened the door.

"What now?" He snapped.

"They found another victim. I'm driving there right now and you are coming with me."

"What? I'm not a field Agent. I don't 'do' crime scenes," Cody said in disbelief. Being at a crime scene was the last thing he wanted. It would be too stressful, there was too much inside of him that wouldn't be able to deal with that. He had been part of far too many crime scenes in his childhood.

"You were quick to pretend to be one this afternoon," McMahon growled. "Get your jacket, you are coming... and that _is_ an order."

* * *

**Thanks to my reviewers: **_Darksoul01__, Tina, Dark Kaneanite _**and**_ Animal Luvr 4 life._

**The next chapter will be up later on today.**

**Loves ya!  
**

**Angel**

**xxx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"_**When I was a boy I never had a friend in the world" – Heinrich Pommerenke aka The Black Forest Monster**_

_Cody was scared. More scared than ever before because he didn't know what to expect. They had given him some clean clothes. The gray prison overall however was too big and he looked like he was about to drown into the fabric. He was sitting in a cold room that was lit up by ugly artificial light. _

_A big black table was between him and another chair. He had noticed the glass window that only showed his reflection and from the movies, he knew that he was being watched. They had treated his arm but it was still hurting badly yet he fought back his tears. Shivers of fear rattled his entire body as he waited for them. _

_Outside the interrogation room Officer Steve Austin, Special Agents Shawn Michaels and Natalya Neidhart were standing in front of the glass watching the young boy inside. Neither of them felt good about this. _

"_What do you think?" Michaels asked his colleague since she was trained in psychology and hopefully could explain why this child had been living with a monster. _

_She rubbed her eyes and sighed. "Honestly I don't know. All I can see right now is a scared little boy and I would rather not interrogate him."_

"_I know what you mean. Jesus how old is he?"_

"_According to the files he just turned ten," she added quietly._

_The Officer let out a whistle through his teeth. "Ten. Shit, can't we get out of that? I mean Chilton made a full confession, didn't he?"_

"_Yes but he also cleared his son and the bureau wants that confirmed."_

"_What do you think Agent Neidhart?"_

"_For all we know he could be the one using the knife," she said firmly even though everything inside her doubted that. _

"_Are you serious? He's ten!"_

"_Only because statistics stating that most Serials are between 25 – 30 doesn't mean he's cleared. He was with the killer, he lived with him, there is no certainty that it wasn't him or that at least he supported the crime. I know it's hard to believe but it's nothing new that sometimes the suspects are of such a young age."_

"_Oh, come on. You are talking about street kids. We're talking about _slashing _women's throats."_

_It was a pointless discussion anyway. The orders were clear and came from highest authorities. As soon as the press would find out about this they would come prowling around here like blood lusting animals because a child gave that story something much more interesting than a simply serial killer case. _

_Both Agents strengthened themselves and nodded at each other. Natalya gave Officer Austin another look and said softly, "Would you get him some hot chocolate? But wait until I give you a sign before you bring it in."_

_Shawn Michaels opened the door with the words, "Alright, let's do this."_

"_Hello Cody," the woman said in a friendly voice and sat down. She had a folder in her hands and started to flip through it. The man who came in with her positioned himself quietly behind her._

_Cody only gave her a shy look, unable to form a greeting. His eyes gazed over her in mistrust. He had his hands buried in his lab and tried to control the trembling of his body. However, that wasn't working so well and he could see that she noticed it too. _

"_Cody do you know why you're here?"_

_He nodded very slowly and lowered his eyes. _

"_Can you tell me?"_

"_B…because…daddy did something bad," he croaked and couldn't hold back a tear dropping down his check. Quickly as if he could hide it he wiped it away with the sleeve of is overall. _

_As she was trained, she repeatedly said his name. "Cody would look at me, please."_

_It caused him so much strength to lift his eyes because of the shame he felt inside. She waited for him and slowly went on with her questions. "Do you know what your father did?"_

_He didn't know how to reply. Tell them everything was what his father told him to do, yet he couldn't bring himself to even make a sound. It was the first time that he was confronted with all of those crimes on a different level and no one would be easing his fears down by telling him that it had to be done like his father would have. _

_When he didn't answer, she sighed and slowly started to pull out some photographs. She placed them face up on the table and watched the boy closely. The second he realised what those photos were showing him his breathing increased and he nervously slid around his chair. His face blushed and he could barely focus on her soft voice as she started asking him if he knew those women. _

"_Cody, do you know who they are?"_

_The photographs showed them smiling or in the circle of their families. Guilt started to eat at him from the inside and he felt sick. He squeezed his eyes and tried to ignore the echoes of their screams in the back of his head. Cody couldn't answer because his voice wouldn't let him so he only nodded. _

"_Do you know what happened to them?"_

_Both Agents hated their job right in that moment. The boy was shivering and sweating. It was affecting them both when he nodded again and lifted his eyes, staring at them with a plea painted on his face. A silent plea for them to stop asking him about the victims. _

"_Did you see what happened?"_

_It was the crucial question and Natalya shortly held on to her breath when the boy slowly moved his head up and down. She had hoped for a different outcome. Sincerely hoped that Cody might know but had never witnessed the killings. Slowly she pulled out another row of pictures and with a sting in her heart placed them over the portraits. _

_This time the pictures showed the victims after the crime and the effect it had on Cody made her curse her profession. He actually pulled back from the table as though the photos were about to attack him. In a desperate gesture, he buried his face inside his hands and started sobbing._

"_I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," was all he was able to incoherently spit out. Both Agents watched the young boy breaking apart right in front of their eyes and there was nothing they could say or do to ease his pain._

Shaking off unpleasant memories Cody tried hard to hide his fears. The closer they got to the crime scene the more sick he felt. His boss had to call out his name to make him react when the car stopped. He didn't want to be here but followed them, staying two steps behind.

Bright spotlights turned the entire scene in a white light. The yellow crime tape was spun around in a circle. In between that circle the Crime Scene Investigators carefully photographed every inch of the scene before starting to search over it thoroughly. Cody could barely breathe and tried not so much to stare at the plastic wrapped body.

It was surprisingly loud. People were talking constantly to each other and in their cell-phones. In the midst of the organized chaos a young CSI made a gesture to the coroner and told him that they were so far clear with the scene. Cody remembered a crime scene of a different kind.

In his memory, it started out loud filled up with inhuman screams of pain but as soon as there was no life left inside the victim, everything always became quiet. So quiet that the only thing he could remember hearing was the pounding of his heart. However, he had never been at such a scene when the police started to collect evidence.

Aside from his training on a faked crime scenes at Quantico, Cody usually stayed far away. Now he was thrown into the middle of it and instead of focusing on the body he let his gaze wander around. Because as far as he knew the body would be the same. Young, beautiful, male and dead.

Instead, he started to walk around. It was a secondary crime scene and they had no idea where the actual killing took place. Cody only wondered why this spot. Why was Groves Park such a great place to dump a body? Walkers, joggers, and tourists constantly invaded it and therefore it was likely the body would be found eventually.

Cody wondered if the spots were chosen randomly or if something was making the killer stop here. It was easily accessible from the streets, which must be of importance because the young men weren't exactly easy to carry let alone to dump.

_No_, he thought, the killer isn't interested in the spots or for the exact place; he only wants to position them to be found. He probably waits a while in the shadows to make sure he wouldn't be seen. He couldn't risk to be interrupted, not so much because of the exposure but more because he needed time to pose them.

Slowly Cody turned around and watched as they very carefully peeled up a layer of plastic. As were the others before the victim's face had been cleaned and almost shined through the night.

_More beautiful in death than in life_, Cody thought and leaned his head to the side.

"He's not been dead for long," a voice said and Cody turned around watching as the coroner thoroughly examined the body. "The body is still partly warm. I'd say no more than four hours."

_Interesting_, Cody thought wondering if the others were dumped as early as this and only discovered later or if the killer was in some sort of a hurry to get rid of the body. He took a closer look and almost stumbled against McMahon as his mind was struck by a vivid flashback that made him gasp out.

"Everything alright?" His boss asked him, concerned and Cody nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he lied, not willing to reveal that for a brief second the dead boy's face had transformed into the face of a woman. It wasn't the first time that something like that happened to him and he stayed silent about it.

"What do you think it means?"

"I don't know. It's confusing because it would mean that he had dumped the body in daylight. That's either a desperate or a very arrogant move. He definitely wants more attention. It's such a risky move…" Cody answered inattentively, already focusing back on the facts.

"Maybe he was forced to do it?" McMahon said.

"Hmm, yeah maybe but…I don't know. It doesn't make sense because he obviously plans everything. So, why switch? Unless he always did it in daylight and we just haven't found the bodies as quickly as today." He turned around and tiredly rubbed his eyes before he said, "Who found the body?"

"A female jogger. She says she only saw the plastic and because of the news she alerted the police."

Cody pulled his cell-phone out as he dialled the number of the lab he ignored McMahon's curious look and spoke carefully and calmly to the person on the other line. "This is Agent Rhodes, I'm wondering if we can estimate how long the bodies were wrapped up in plastic? Good, yeah could you give me a call when you get the results? Thanks."

"Do you really think that is important?"

"I don't know yet but if he always dumps them in daylight it might say something about his personality. I don't know maybe he's afraid of the dark. Maybe he doesn't want to be in the park after the sun sets. Or maybe he just doesn't care about the risk of being seen. Either way it might be important."

McMahon raised an eyebrow, saying, "You think he might be afraid of the dark?"

"Or maybe the park after dark. I don't know but usually every detail is supposed to tell us something."

He closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to rid himself of the approaching headache.

"Cody, I think you should get some rest. You really don't look all too well," McMahon said concerned.

"No, I'm okay. I'd rather go back to the office and wait for the results. Maybe I overlooked something…I don't know but something just seems different."

"Your choice but please take a little more care of yourself. And for God's sake eat something. I'll get you a ride back."

Good idea, Cody thought realising that he was actually starving for once and on his way back to the office he made the driver stop at a doughnut stand. Something sweet seemed to be the right choice.

He was holding the bag in one hand as he entered the FBI building through the parking lot and barely looked at anyone whilst he walked towards his office. The attack hit him completely unprepared.

A young woman was suddenly right in front of him and slapped him hard. The doughnut bag dropped to his feet and he stumbled as she hammered her fist against his chest.

"You should be locked up. Your father was a monster. A monster!" She screamed out furiously and the sound of her voice didn't tone down when two agents grabbed by her wrists.

Cody shook his head and blinked in confusion. Her words crashed inside his head and increased the already seething pain. He lifted his eyes and stared at her unable to say anything.

She was crying now repeating her accusations against his father before her voice broke.

"You've seen it all, haven't you? He killed my mother. My mother. I found her. I fucking found her. I can't believe that you're free. You are just as bad as him. You watched it all…"

Her words were spat out and every single one hit him hard. He had no idea who she was and honestly, he didn't even want to know. She sobbed out her name though, not hers but the name of her mother.

Linda Howard.

They dragged her out of Cody's sight and someone was trying to reach him but he was not really listening. His heart pounded so heavily that he pressed his hand against his chest and leaned against the wall. Slowly he sunk to the ground unable to comprehend what had just happened.

He tried to remember the girls' mother but couldn't. It was increasing the feeling of guilt inside him. There were so many of them and he always tried to forget them as soon as possible. They only came back in his dreams but never before had he been confronted personally with a relative.

Sure, he'd seen their faces in the courtroom but he was protected by others and aside from some letters he'd never spoken to any of the people who suffered by his father's actions. She was right, he thought and sadness overwhelmed him, I shouldn't be here.

It was Officer Jericho who was finally able to get through to him and helped him up. The young cop closed the door to his office and stuttered a few apologies. Apparently, no one had suspected her to be a relative and she had somehow sneaked her way in. Nobody knew exactly how.

"I'm really sorry," Chris said and scratched his head. "This really shouldn't be happening."

Noticing the older man's discomfort Cody lifted his eyes and said dryly, "It's alright. I'm okay. She's just upset and who can blame her?"

"But you are not responsible for this."

"Am I not? What do you think? You're wondering too aren't you?"

"I don't think we can be made responsible for what our parents did," Chris replied softly and gave him a compassionate look before he added, "You're right. I'm thinking about you and what you've been through. It's really fucked up but you're here. You're even working on this side of the law, which to me seems very brave."

"Brave?" Chris let out a sarcastic laugh and raised an eyebrow: "I hate being here. I like solving the mysteries because usually it keeps me calm. But that's not working in this fucking city. You want to know the truth? I want to go home."

"I can understand that. But I also think you are much stronger than you think. None of us can even remotely understand what you've been through. Just don't let all of this get to you and get that asshole. I'm pretty confident you can do that."

Cody lifted his eyes and couldn't help but smile. "No you're not. You have no confidence in my abilities whatsoever and you don't really believe I belong here either. But thanks for saying it anyway."

"I hate profilers. I really do. Okay, you're right I had my doubts but you obviously have a gift to read people and therefore might be the only one able to catch this guy. I'll leave you alone before you start telling me about my childhood," he said with a soft tone.

Before he left he turned around again. "Oh, and I checked out that name you gave me. Jeffrey Hardy?"

The name had a profound affect on Cody and he curiously lifted his eyes. "What did you find out?"

"Nothing much. Pretty normal profile. Born in Cameron, North Carolina. Parents divorced. No entries in any databases that suggest a criminal nature. Actually, he seemed to have barely existed before he moved to Los Angeles. He has quite a good reputation regarding his work. Never attended college, though. Oh, and his alibi checked out. He definitely was in Miami and New Orleans at the time of the first and second killing. Hotel reservations, phone bills and about a dozen witnesses confirm him being there."

"Thank you," Cody said and watched the officer leave.

His body was still trembling from that recent run in with the young woman, his head was really hurting and he felt exhausted yet the information about Jeff was something he welcomed much more than he would have guessed. As he was sitting there at his desk he couldn't stop thinking about the bluntness move.

He had to admit to himself that he really wanted to see him again. Maybe even go a bit further with him because somehow he needed to do something out of the routine. He needed to be away from crime and agency. He wanted to feel something different. Something positive for a change. Maybe, he wanted to feel wanted.

Whatever it was it made him grab his jacket and leave the office. It made him get into his car and drive back to the parking lot and it was what made him open the door to the tattoo studio again.

"I knew you'd be back," Jeff said with a devilish grin on his face and Cody shrugged.

"Your alibi checked out," he said and moved from one foot to the other.

Jeff approached him very slowly, his voice sounded dark and almost disappointed. "That means you're not afraid of me. Too bad."

Everything around this man was confusing and exciting him at the same time. He couldn't really make sense of those words and yet they made him shiver and gave him goosebumps. Trying to sound casual, he replied, "Why is that bad? Do you want me to be afraid of you?"

Cody knew that his boss wouldn't approve that he came back here. Despite that the alibi checked out, Jeff was still not cleared. Alibis could be forged or he could be an accomplice or a witness. He was definitely not someone to be around in a private matter yet Cody didn't care.

"Yeah, a little bit. It's more fun that way," Jeff growled and started to prowl around him.

"I just wanted to let you know that. Okay, I guess that's all. Nice to see you again," Cody said with a trembling voice knowing how ridiculous he sounded.

"That's not the reason you're here," he simply said and Cody almost jumped when he felt two arms wrapping around his waist from behind.

"I…I should go," he shuddered not sounding very convincing and he couldn't deny that the unexpected body contact was lifting him up.

"Oh, no you shouldn't. How about you stop your silly game? Stop pretending to be something you're not and be what you really want to be," his lips touching Cody's ear and the words crawling through his body straight into his mind.

He couldn't prevent his voice from sounding breathless when he asked: "What do I want to be?"

Jeff let out a soft lewd sound and tightened his grip around him, slowly pushing him towards the counter, whispering in an agitated voice, "The victim."

Everything around him shut down. All rational thoughts left his brain as he felt Jeff pressing him against the counter. Instinctively he tried to fend him off but when he was held in a steady grip he lost his will to fight back. The feeling of being trapped opened up boundaries inside him and a moan escaped his lips.

Forcefully Jeff started to push him closer against the concrete and Cody closed his eyes when he felt cold slender hands fumbling around the zipper of his trousers. Fear crawled up inside him because he was not ready for that. Even though he wasn't ever sure whether he was ready.

Maybe Jeff knew this or maybe he simply had other plans but he didn't pull down his trousers completely. All he did was wrapping his hand around him and got a hold of Cody's erection. His touch was not tender but strong and demanding and Cody felt Jeff's penis straining hard against his back.

"Am I right, Cody?" he hissed against his neck whilst he started stroking his cock intensely. "Do you want to be the victim?"

Shit, he thought with his eyes shut, confined between the stranger and the counter feeling the hand moving faster, adding more pressure. It almost hurt and he let out a whimper that transformed into a moan.

He couldn't even remember when he did that to himself last and had no recollection of ever having another guy doing that but he couldn't deny that it felt good. It felt wrong and yet so good. Cody couldn't move, Jeff wouldn't let him. He wouldn't allow his hips to jerk back and prevented it by pushing his body hard against him.

Sweat poured down his face and he was panting more erratically the more intense the masturbation got. His cock burned like fire under the intense pressure and he let out sounds he didn't even know he was capable of making. Everything that was bothering him washed away by the actions of this man. A man he barely knew yet gave into so willingly that it was surprising in itself.

"Just fucking cum, Cody I haven't got all day," the agitated voice behind him growled. It sounded like a demand and Cody let out a whimper when the pressure increased.

His body tensing, rattling, shivering when he felt release crawling through is veins. Pushed forward with adrenaline and he let out a lascivious sound when he climaxed. With his head pressed against the counter he heavily breathed in and out and was barely aware that Jeff had let him go.

He was still panting and trembling when he turned around with a blushing face. Slowly he pulled his pants back up. His eyes locked with Jeff who stood before him with an arrogant smile.

"Next time I'll fuck you," He simply stated firmly and pulled out a cigarette.

As if reality kicked back in Cody shook his head in disbelief and stuttered, "I…I shouldn't…we…I mean you…" His voice cracked and Jeff laughed.

"Ha, ha, ha don't be so fucking shy a simple thank you would have been enough," he said and lit up his cigarette.

"I'd better go," Cody mumbled embarrassed and shocked that the rudeness of Jeff's words was not exactly bothering him.

"Yeah, sure. You'll be back anyway. Just remember next time you walk out of that door it's going to be a lot more painful," Jeff said with a broad smile on his face.

Because Cody had no witty reply, he simply shook his head and fled the room as quickly as possible. He almost crashed his car on the way back to the motel and once he was inside his room, carefully avoiding meeting the gaze of any of the surveillance officers he let out a deep gasp.

What the hell happened? He asked himself for the millionth time unable to find an answer. All he knew was the second Cody took control of him everything else had faded. Nothing seemed important anymore. Not his past and not this case. It was unprofessional to go back it was completely out of character to give in to such a sexual thing but he was helpless against it.

He couldn't believe that the thought of it was already causing his body to react again. He decided that this would be kept a secret and he decided that he would not go back there. This wasn't him. He wasn't someone who would do things like that and it was freaking him out.

The victim. No, that wasn't the truth, he thought restlessly, pacing through his room. He didn't want to be the victim. His eyes stared at the folders again and he took a deep breath knowing that he had to solve this case and leave this city. He couldn't stay here because he had distinct feeling that he was losing himself.

As the warm water of the shower cleaned him of the evidence of the recent event he slowly calmed down. It must have been the stress. He needed sleep that's all. Sleep, food, and everything would be normal again.

With that lie, he took two sleeping pills and crawled under the blankets forcing his mind back to sleep.

* * *

**Thanks to my reviewers: **_Dark Kaneanite, Animal Luvr 4 Life_ **and my gorgeous twin** _Tina_

**I'll probably have the next chapter up by around this time tomorrow.**

**Loves ya!**

**Angel  
xxx**


	5. Chapter 5

**I apologize for the delay of this chapter, I've had writers block.**

**Chapter 5**

"_**Dad, the world is getting darker now. I can feel it more and more…the girls call me ugly and they bother me the most." - David Berkowitz aka Son of Sam in a letter to his father one month before the first murder.**_

"_Help me," the woman croaked and stared at him. _

Cody rose up with the word _no_ on his lips and took a few deep breaths before he realised where he was. He cursed himself again for his actions the other night, and still wondered how he could give into such a thing. As he pulled the blanket away he let out a small moan and angrily noticed that apparently sleep had not helped to get rid of the nagging headaches.

His eyes found his watch and he sighed. Five am. Great, he thought moving out of the bed. He couldn't go back to sleep because he couldn't bear their faces haunting him again. It was too early to go to the office so he tiredly rubbed his eyes and started to make himself a coffee.

Black, strong and very unhealthy but at least it would wake him up. Carefully balancing the cup, he sat back on the bed and pulled out the files of the victims again. It occurred to him that he hadn't even looked at the newest victim. The realization filled him up with guilt and a high portion of shame as well.

With an angry growl, he moved up again and dressed himself. There was no point in lingering around here, he thought and grabbed his car keys. It was still dark outside and he inhaled the city air hungrily before cursing all of it as well. The surveillance teams spotted him and a young cop gave him a tired glare.

Cody simply gestured him that he was about to leave only received a small nod. So much for caring, he thought but was relieved that he didn't have to search for an explanation for his early departure. On the entire drive, his mind was occupied with thoughts of himself and most importantly the night before.

Pushing aside the possibility that Jeff might even be involved it was still not easing any discomfort aside. What bothered him the most was the simple fact that he had liked it. No matter how much he blamed it on the lack of sleep he couldn't deny that he enjoyed the feeling of being trapped.

What did that say about him? As much as he tried to work it around in his head, he couldn't come up with a reasonable explanation. Before that little encounter with the Tattoo artist he'd never craved anything like that and he would have never guessed that he would like to be treated that way.

Carefully he directed his car into the parking lot. His eyes widened and he let out a sigh when Beth Phoenix stood at the entrance to the building with a cigarette in her hands. He looked behind him and cursed the entire Federal Bureau of Investigation for its inability to guard one of its own buildings.

Basically he had two choices; he could either pull back and drive away or get out of the car to be confronted with a woman he really didn't want to see right now. Cody needed to see the new file. If he wanted to find out more about the killer, he needed to get inside his office and do his homework.

He slammed the car door angrily and lowered his eyes as if that would miraculously make him invisible.

"Mr. Rhodes," she said in a friendly voice as her eyes lit up.

Annoyed he rolled his eyes, saying, "What? Haven't you done enough?"

He knew he probably shouldn't show her how much it had affected him but it wasn't even six am and he was tired and angry and therefore didn't care.

"I'm sorry I know it must be hard for you…"

"No, don't give me that crap. You're not sorry; you're having the time of your life. Don't pretend to care about anyone else other than yourself. You've got your story and it doesn't matter to you how anyone else feels about it."

She narrowed her eyes and brushed through her long blonde hair. "Okay, busted. You're right it's a great story. It's mind-blowing actually and that's why I'm here."

_Where are the guards?_ He wondered and rubbed his eyes. "You really think I'm going to answer your questions? I'm sorry, Miss Phoenix but I have a job to do and I'm afraid I can't give you an exclusive interview," he said trying very hard to sound polite but wasn't able to hide his sarcasm.

"Seems your foster parents think the same way," she replied and Cody felt sick.

"Can't you just leave them alone? Can't you just leave _this_ alone? There is a serial killer on the loose right now, wouldn't that be more of an interest than an old case?" Cody tried reasoning without hope because he had known too many reporters and they never let things go.

Cody tried to pass her but she moved in front of him . "You're the one the audience is interested in. Don't you get that? Who cares about a serial killer who kills pretty boys? We've got those sickos all the time but you are different. You're the one people wanna read about."

In the back of his head Cody couldn't help but almost smile, thinking that the ghost he was haunting might not be very happy about that. However, he didn't intend to let her know that this might actually help them to force the killer to make a mistake. Instead he shook his head and gave her a disapproving glare. "I can't stop you from writing about me but I won't give you any details either, so if you excuse me…"

Beth gave him room but before he opened the door she said triumphantly, "You don't really have to. I'm flying to New York this afternoon."

Everything inside Cody turned upside down, as he slowly moved around.

"What?"

"Your father has granted me an interview and there is nothing you can do about it."

It probably was good that right in that moment the door swung open and revealed Agent McMahon, who instantly snapped at the reporter, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Cody, however, was completely frozen and couldn't take his gaze from her. His voice was trembling as he merely whispered, "Don't do that."

"I'm sorry it's already arranged. I just felt obligated to give you a slight warning."

He made a fist and needed all of his strength to control his voice. "You came here to rub that in my face, that's all. Do you really need attention that much? Is that what it is, Beth?"

McMahon swallowed when he stared in Cody's face and watched the young profiler approaching her slowly.

Cody's voice sounded different and oddly calm as he went on."Did the kids in high school not really see you? You needed to be very loud to make them hear you, right? What about the boys? Did they fuck you on a strictly no return call basis?"

She moved a step back as the confidence in her eyes faded away.

"Cody, I think that's enough. Let's go inside," McMahon said sharply.

But Cody was not done. He'd had enough of reporters sneaking into his life. Memories of his own high school came crashing back into his mind. They didn't pick on him, never called him names, and never even dared to do anything that might anger him because they were scared.

Of course, they knew. So many knew but carefully avoided the subject. He wasn't invited to any birthday parties mostly because one overprotective mom didn't want the son of a murder in her house. Cody didn't care much, though. He was better off alone. He would listen to Ted telling him about all the social activities but never attended one.

It wasn't solely the eager reporter's fault that all of this had resurfaced. She was just the trigger and he found himself asking her in a dark voice, "Say, Beth how old are you?"

Her voice cracked yet she managed to hush out: "27."

"Interesting. Well, have fun in New York," Cody suddenly said with a fake smile before he added, "Oh, and when he stares at you blankly, he's thinking about slashing your goddamn throat."

Cody felt McMahon's hand around his arm pulling at him and he also noticed something in Beth's face. It was fear and he was the one causing it.

"Yeah, you're fitting the profile, Beth," he added already feeling incredibly sick for even saying it. It was the first time that he had said anything like that to a woman and he hated himself for it more than anything. His anger had reached the point of no return but he was no longer resisting his boss's attempts to drag him inside.

McMahon pushed him against the wall and started to furiously scream at him. "Have you completely lost your mind? You played right into her hand. For God's sake, Cody what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me? I don't know, you tell me. Yeah, maybe I've lost my mind. Hey, maybe I'm crazy. Everybody always seems to assume that anyway. What's wrong with me? Everything is wrong with me. Everything is wrong in general. I want to go home, okay? I want to go home!"

Breathlessly he shook McMahon's hand off and lowered his eyes. His heartbeat eased down and he swallowed another wave of tears because he didn't want to cry anymore. Let alone in front of his boss.

"I'm just so tired," Cody whispered defeated and sunk against the wall.

"Do you think she's going to stop if you're back home?"

Slowly the young profiler shook his head.

"Do you think any of this will go away when you're back home?" McMahon fixated him because he still believed that he needed this boy and was determined to keep him here. Even though he was quite aware that Cody was on the verge of a breakdown.

"No, but it's easier at home. It's harder in this city. I don't know how to solve this case. I don't know what I should look for anymore because it's not him in my mind it's…"

"Your dad?" The older Agent asked softly.

"Yes and no. I don't know. I'm mixing up the profiles. I can't concentrate. I can't fucking sleep and I can't eat anything either." Cody finally admitted carefully keeping everything regarding Jeff to himself.

"How about breakfast?"

The question sounded ridiculous but Cody braced himself and took a deep breath. "Yeah, I guess…"

"We're going to watch out for you better, okay? Just don't give up. I know you can do this," McMahon said with an encouraging slap on Cody's shoulder.

_Maybe Vince was right_, Cody thought. He had been through worse. If only he could find a way into the killers mind.

"I'm sorry I sounded like a lunatic," Cody apologised and the older man gave him a compassionate smile.

"Oh, well she brought that on herself. Stop worrying about her, Cody. She'll dig up dirt but in the end dirt goes back where it belongs."

"She's going to talk to my dad," Cody said quietly as they started walking towards the cafeteria.

* * *

A few hours later Cody had calmed down. His anger was reduced back to his own self-doubt and therefore not bothering anyone else. He was sitting in his small office and stared at the pictures of victim number four.

Brendon Keller, 21 born in Austin, Texas. Brendon was in his freshmen year at UCLA. He was tall, played soccer and according to the notes and testimonies of his family, he was a very beloved young man. He financed his education with modelling jobs on the side and was openly gay.

Despite that, he was offered a membership in a very high profile fraternity, which was not revealing its name. He had not been a member at the point of his death, which makes him an abnormality in the case.

Brendon left his dorm room on November 25th and never came home. This made Cody narrow his eyes and realizing that the killer had moved much faster between killings. It also made him assume that there was already another boy in jeopardy, which made his heart sting.

Test results on the plastic wraps were not able to give an estimated time of how long he had been lying there in Groves Park. Severe blood loss was the cause of death but Brendon had also been tortured. Abrasions and inner injuries made it clear that the killer's brutality had increased.

The victim had been raped; as were the others but the wounds around his rectum also showed signs that he was penetrated with a sharp object. The body had been neatly cleaned as were the others but Cody could still see slight differences. It was unusual and either meant that something had happened during the crime that made the killer more vicious or even worse that the first three victims were merely practice.

They didn't find any crimes in the databases that seemed similar and Cody guessed that it all started with Victim #1. Everything that had been purely fantasy had become real with the first kill. Even though the killer might have been playing around with the idea, he had waited.

Fratboys. Fraternities. What made them so special? Prestige? Power? Cody rubbed his eyes and flipped through the folders. His mind started to communicate with the person he searched for.

"Okay, so what did they do that made you so angry?"

He thought about his dad and pushed the unpleasant memories aside.

"They were all perfect in so many ways. You wanted them to suffer but for what?"

His headaches made him finally lift his eyes for a second and he tried to make his mind free. Where is the connection? He slowly turned to his computer screen and started to type various words into the search engine.

The computer listed about a hundred entries regarding crimes circling around fraternities. It was common knowledge that some rituals could be called rather cruel and brutal. He scrolled through them, copied, and pasted a few. He decided to take a closer look. He was distracted by the TV in his room and from the corner of his eyes he saw Beth Phoenix as she was standing in front of the New York state prison.

After solving his inner conflict by letting curiosity win over, he turned around and switched on the sound.

"…_We're about to present you an exclusive interview with Edward Chilton, also known as the East-Coast Slasher. Chilton brutally murdered 21 women back in his day…"_

Cody's heartbeat increased as the screen flickered and cut into the prison. The camera floated through the corridors. The image switched and showed the inside of a gray and unspectacular room.

Everything about the case was forgotten the second the face of his father filled up the screen. Instantly he felt tears surfacing as he remembered that face. It was so different now. So much older and Cody clawed his fingernails inside his palms as he was overwhelmed with a strong feeling of loss.

"_Mr. Chilton, I'm Beth Phoenix,"_ she said in friendly and non-judgmental voice.

His father barely looked at her. _He's on medication_, Cody thought with a pain in his heart.

"_Mr. Chilton, I'm sure you are aware that your son is working for the FBI."_

The camera was fading back when Edward slowly lifted his suffused eyes. _"My son is a good kid."_

Cody was not really listening to her questions. He felt like drowning into the past and was torn between the strong wish to go back and simply be with his dad or the urge to shut off the TV. He barely recognized that Agent McMahon had entered his office and softly approached him.

"Maybe you shouldn't…" The older man started but was struck silent by Cody's blank stare at the screen.

"_Cody was too good, you know. He never understood. I shouldn't have tried to make him understand…"_ the low voice of his father filled up his mind and Cody didn't react to McMahon's hand on his shoulder.

"_What did he not understand, Mr. Chilton?"_ Beth asked her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"_That it had to be done. I'm sorry for him. He cried so much for them and neither of them deserved his tears. I love him very much. He is a good kid."_

By that time, it was clear that medication had taken over Edward Chilton's mind and Cody was crying. He wasn't exactly sure who for but he couldn't hold back his tears. He cried for the victims that pleaded to him for help, for himself because he was never able to understand and for his father who was trapped inside his own world. A world where there was no room for those women.

Cody knew it was wrong, that it was a terrible crime that nothing could excuse it but he couldn't shake off the unbearable feeling that he had disappointed his father. That he was the failure to both the victims and him. Now he was failing those young men as well. They were dying because he wasn't able to find a solution.

Reluctantly he moved away from his boss and wiped his tears away. He couldn't say anything. He only grabbed his jacket and fled the office, the building and his past. He wanted to run away and crawl up under a rock.

So many people had tried to tell him through all his life that none of this was his fault yet he couldn't believe it. He couldn't help his dad and he watched them die. Silently, without moving a finger to stop any of it. Instead, he had cleaned up afterwards. It wasn't his dad it was Cody who carefully wiped away the blood from the floor.

They might have caught his father earlier if he hadn't so thoroughly cleaned up the crime scene. While his dad was sitting in the corner of the kitchen, he had rid the room of evidence. Who the hell was he kidding, Cody thought slamming his fist onto the wheel. They cleared him of all charges and ever since then Cody couldn't help but think that it wasn't right. That he should have been judged for what he had done.

Cody believed that he was selfish. Because all he wanted back in those days was to be with his father. It was the only place he felt safe. If that meant to deal with those horrible acts of violence so be it. His psychiatrist had never got through to him; his foster parents were merely bystanders on his road. The teachers, the kids and the few friendly people in his life could never take the guilt away from him.

As he drove down Sunset Boulevard, he had stopped crying because there was someone who had made his inner pain go away. At least for a short while nothing of it seemed important anymore and so Cody directed his car towards the Tattoo studio and his heart jumped when he saw light inside.

Cody's face was red, his eyes still wet when he opened the door. For reasoning, he didn't find it as the door to redemption. What he searched for was pain.

Jeff stood in the middle of the room and stared at him. His face gloomed with something so dark that it made Cody's chest tighten. He grinned when he locked the door and made a gesture for Cody to follow him.

Deep in the back of his head Cody's rational mind kept telling him that this was by far the worst idea he'd ever had but he pushed it all aside. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered and he swallowed his fear down, entering a small bedroom. His eyes instantly fixed on the king size bed with black sheets that seemed to fill out the entire room.

He inhaled sharply when he felt Jeff's hand wrapping around his waist and a voice whispering in his ear. "I saw your daddy on TV, Cody."

Cody closed his eyes and was not aware that once again his cheeks wet with tears of despair as he listened to the rasping voice.

"He said you are a good kid but he's wrong isn't he?"

Cody hated his words yet leaned back and breathed out.

"I'm going to hurt you, Cody," his voice sounded dangerous yet almost casual as if he had said it a hundred times.

The next thing Cody felt was a hard kick in his back that made him stumble onto the bed. He wanted to turn around but was slapped hard and the voice crashed into his mind. "Don't you fucking look at me!"

Two cold hands roughly ripping on his pants. Cody felt sick yet completely uplifted as well. Jeff was not allowing him to move his head, his face pressed hard into the blankets and he gasped for air. His hips tensed when the older man pulled his pants down completely and with a strong grip ripped his boxers apart.

Cold air grazed over his naked backside and he felt adrenaline rushing into his veins. His fingers clawed into the black fabric and he let out a helpless moan when he felt Jeff lifting up his hips.

"Hold still," Jeff demanded and Cody complied submissively, waiting for whatever was to come.

He could hear that Jeff was breathing heavily and almost cried out when a cold finger penetrated him. His muscles cramped over the intrusion and he shut his eyes, images flashing over him. Of his dad, of the women he had watched die and of the young men.

Raped, tortured, slashed throats he barely realized that he was unconsciously pressing his erection into the bed.

"What do you want, Cody," A voice breezed into his ear.

His voice was cracking with tears as he hissed out breathlessly, "To forget."

Cody couldn't believe what he was doing. There was no explanation that could possible justify it. He didn't even know this guy. He didn't even ask if he would be using a condom and had never sex with a man before, yet Cody didn't care. He didn't care about anything anymore.

The pain spread out through his entire body as Jeff sliced through him with a hard and merciless thrust. Blinded by it Cody almost threw up at first and tightened his grip around the blanket, biting down the fabric to suppress a scream. Muffled sounds of agony forced out of him as Jeff viciously started to fuck him.

Cody could feel his skin breaking and could feel that he was starting to bleed but the truth was that he wanted Jeff to go on. He wanted him to go faster and harder but he wasn't allowed to move or say anything so he only secretly wished it to become more painful. It was as if Jeff had read his mind, although it probably simply was the older man's growing agitation that made him push in more intensely.

Cody climaxed even before Jeff had. His boiling blood rattled his body up and he panted heavily through his teeth. Filled up with pain and pleasure he was not able to form any more sounds except short breaths and whimpers combined with a desperate sobbing that didn't seem to end.

It took him a moment to realize that Jeff was done with him and pulled out. His heart pounded so fast that it caused him to choke and cough. Slowly he turned around still snivelling and sobbing. His eyes lifted and he stared into Jeff's blushing face.

"Did that help?"

There was not the slightest trace of compassion in that voice yet Cody smiled.

"Yes, it did."

Jeff grinned. "Good. Come back tomorrow."

With that, Jeff turned around and moved out of the room. Cody wasn't sure what to say or what to do. A part of him was relieved and a part of him utterly disturbed. He wasn't even sure if he wanted him to stay to share a few words or if he was glad about that quick emotionless departure.

His hands trembled uncontrollably and he needed to take a deep breath before he was able to pull up his pants. He felt embarrassed as he pushed the ripped off boxers in the pocket of his jacket. Slowly he moved out but couldn't find Jeff.

He was still shivering and felt an unfamiliar pain that made it hard to sit in the car. He was bleeding and wondered how long that would go on. His heart was still racing and didn't seem to calm down and he had trouble to concentrate at the traffic. This time, however Cody knew he would come back because as disturbing it was it had given him a few precious moments in which he wasn't remembered of who he was and where he came from.

Cody wondered if Jeff would ever really talk to him but in the end, it wasn't important. They had both got what they wanted. This blissful feeling lasted until he was standing in the shower and all walls broke down. Ashamed of himself he completely gave into his despair.

Somehow he made it to the bed and stared blankly at the ceiling. The phone put him out of his thoughts and he answered it with a shaking voice.

"Yeah?"

"_Hey, little brother it's Ted."_ Ted wasn't his brother but the son of his Foster parents yet he always seemed to feel the need to make that sort of connection.

"Hey," Cody answered quietly feeling even more ashamed even though Ted knew nothing about Jeff.

"I figured with all the news you might need someone to talk to."

_What have I done._ Cody was suddenly fully aware of his actions couldn't control his voice from cracking as he said, "Thanks but…I…I'm fine."

_"Really? You don't sound fine? You want me to come down there?"_

_Oh no,_ Cody thought frantically. The last thing he wanted was anyone close to him in this city, he cleared his throat. "No, it's alright. It's just all… really stressful. This case… it's harder than I thought."

_"Are you sure you don't need a friendly, handsome face around you? I could kick that reporter's ass,"_ Ted spoke in such a friendly voice that Cody actually found himself smiling.

"I bet you could. Listen I'm okay. Just the usual fucked up me. I'll get better once we get the killer."

_"I'm sure you will get him. With your perfect mind I'm certain that guy is shitting his pants by now."_

"I doubt that, he doesn't seem to mind us sneaking around," Cody said sarcastically and suddenly his mind moved back to the case. "Hey, Ted you're in a fraternity, right?"

_"No, they offered but I declined."_

"But you know a lot of members?"

_"Sure, why?"_

"Have you ever heard some stories about brutality forced on members or people who want to become members?" Cody was already pulling out the folders again, trying to focus his mind on the case.

_"Of course there are dozens but most of them are more urban legends than facts. You want me to ask around?"_

"If it's no trouble that would be great," Cody answered before sighing.

_"Cody? Are you sure you're alright?"_ The concern brought fourth a sudden urge to confide but he quickly swallowed it down.

"I really just want to get home, you know. The faster this guy is caught I can do that. I hate this city," he said only half admitting to his problems.

_"It's the city of Angels, Cody. You should indulge yourself in its decadence,"_ Ted grunted and Cody guessed that it was a form of laughter.

"I guess I'm not that kind of person," Cody said wondering what Ted would say should he confess to his little adventure.

When Ted said his goodbyes and hung up, Cody felt empty. Even more empty than before and he hated to feel that way. It wasn't exactly the closest relationship but at least Ted was some sort of friend. He remembered that Ted had kicked quite some asses on his account.

Usually Cody was not against loneliness but for some reason ever since he set foot in this city, he couldn't cope with it anymore. Or maybe it was the interview or maybe the fact that he had let a total stranger take him in that way. Either way it was not helping his already crushed state of mind.

Tiredly he laid his eyes on the coffee maker and thought about his options. Kicking away the small strain of hope to actually find sleep, he moved up and turned it on before focusing back on the images of the dead boys.

* * *

Not that far away from the Travelodge Cody was staying in someone else had just turned off the TV. He slowly moved around a corner and kneeled down. His slender hand brushed away a few dark curls from a beautiful face.

"Hello gorgeous," he whispered and smiled.

* * *

**Thanks to my reviewers: **_Animal Luvr 4 Life, Tina, Dark Kaneanite_ **and** _wrestlefan4 _

**Loves ya**

**Angel**

**xxx**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"_**Big deal, death comes with the territory…see you in Disneyland." – Richard Ramirez aka Night Stalker.**_

Antony Manford had just turned 22 and on his birthday, he believed this to become 'his' year. He kissed his parents goodbye and left the boring façade of his hometown in Ohio to travel to the City of Angels. He had been accepted at UCLA and shortly after his arrival his life had changed for the better.

He was a good-looking boy with many talents. With his charming attitude, he quickly found new friends and even new lovers. Los Angeles had welcomed him with open arms.

When Antony started to talk with a young man in what currently could be called In-Club he was only slightly drunk.

The young dark haired man was not exactly his taste. Too many tattoos and too arrogant yet somehow captivating. Deciding he had been here for fun he followed the man outside in his car and after a heavy make-out session, he was so incredibly horny that he pushed aside all doubts and sat happily on the passenger side when the dark fellow started the engine.

Three hours later Thomas cursed himself and the world for being so stupid and naïve. The many warnings of the press and police came crashing back into his mind only it was too late. He couldn't exactly remember how it happened only that at some point he felt dizzy. Realizing that he had been drugged he tried to fight the man off but was already too weak and everything went black.

The next time he opened his eyes he was in pain. He had never been in such pain and moaned out. Slowly reality sunk into his mind and he realized that his hands were tied and lifted up his head. In a pointless attempt, he ripped on the bonds but was not able to free himself.

Fear overwhelmed him because he had heard the news and there was no doubt that he had fallen into the hands of the killer they were searching for. Panic spread out inside him and caused him valuable oxygen for his breathing increased erratically. He tried to scream but the duct tape around his mouth transformed that scream into a helpless whimper.

He had never been so scared in his entire life and his mind slowly shut down when the dark haired man kneeled before him and said almost softly, 'Hello gorgeous'.

Antony felt like a puppet when the torture started. A dark voice moved into his head and started to talk to him. Growling out his name and telling him that he was such a beautiful boy. Most of his body went numb with the first rape. Tears dropping from his eyes, moving over the duct tape as he was viciously penetrated by a guy he had willingly followed into his apartment.

He was not sure what he had done to make this man so angry and found himself silently apologizing but his torment didn't seem to end. He started throwing up when something cold and sharp entered his body and blinded him with pain. The duct tape was lifted and the dark voice sounded like a teachers as it said, "Oh, don't choke on that, my love."

Antony didn't feel the next rape anymore. Everything had gone numb. He didn't even feel the short cuts on the surface of his skin. All he wanted and all he prayed for was to die. He had long given up on praying for help but death seemed a reasonable request. He wanted the voice to stop telling him how lovely he looked or how wonderful it felt to fuck him.

He was punished for something yet didn't know for what. The voice kept telling him that it's all his fault. That all of them are going to pay for what they did but Antony didn't know this guy and had no idea what he was talking about. In the few breaks between his ongoing sufferings he always fell into a restless sleep and every time his attacker came back he hated the fact that he had woken up again.

The man that had held him captured never revealed his name, never even bothered to explain. His mood shifted between being almost happy to furious in a matter of seconds and Thomas didn't know what triggered those emotions. Sometimes the man talked to him like a child and started to clean him up, brushed his hair and kissed his cheeks only to rip on his hair seconds later so hard that Antony suspected that part of his skull was ripped off with it.

There was so much blood pouring out of various wounds that in a hysterical state Thomas wondered how long his body would function. His throat was dry and sore and he sincerely wished for some water. Something however told him that his wish would not be granted; for it would ease his pain and that seemed to be the last thing this maniac wanted.

Shortly before he died, he heard the voice telling him something that was supposed to cheer him up. The dark voice growled into his ear that some guy named Cody was working hard on that case and that it was Cody's fault that he had to feel such pain because he couldn't read the clues that he'd been given.

It was almost making Antony laugh as he heard the voice demanding him to not die. As his life faded out of his body, the man hammered on his chest and cried out an animalistic scream repeatedly yelling that it wasn't time yet.

_Fucker,_ Thomas thought as his eyes fluttered close and his heart stopped.

* * *

Cody stared at the photograph of Antony Manford and felt sorry. Missing persons had faxed the picture to his office because Antony fit the profile of the victims. However, Cosy couldn't shake of the feeling that Antony was already dead and his body would show up any second now.

Whatever they had done, whatever he had written down into the folder it wasn't enough. They had no name and no face. Only a ghost. Aside from them being part of a fraternity nothing connected those boys. They didn't hang around in the same circle of friends, didn't visit the same clubs or parties.

Cody knew that he had missed something. Something crucial that would explain why them. However, there was nothing that brought the ends together. He couldn't even determine whether or not the killer was denied a membership in a fraternity or if members of such a brotherhood had somehow hurt him.

There were a dozen files on brutality and hazing during pledges but nothing seemed brutal enough to force out such behaviour. Several young people had died during such rituals but mostly because of alcohol or stupid accidents. Nothing that would trigger such an impulse.

By now he knew the files word by word, knew the photographs inch by inch but it didn't help and only increased his headaches. The only thing he was certain was that the second Antony Manford's body would be found another young man would be walking in the trap. It didn't matter how many warnings they gave out.

Tiredly he rubbed his eyes and lifted them to the clock. It was late afternoon and he hadn't decided if he would be visiting Jeff again. The truth was he still had questions because Brendon Keller, Victim #4 of course also had a tattoo yet he somehow doubted he would get a chance to ask any questions.

The tattoos issue had been disregarded by the bureau with the statement that nowadays almost all young people had them and that it was just a coincidence. Cody didn't believe that because all of those inks were custom made, which indicated that they had really thought about it and it didn't seem like a rebellious act.

Cody was waiting for Ted's call and he also sent out several requests to universities to reveal anything out of the ordinary regarding fraternities. So far, he had received nothing. Most of the colleges rather not openly discuss what happened behind the walls of education.

The young profiler had successfully avoided watching any news or looking at any newspaper. He also ignored any phone calls made by his foster parents and his psychiatrist because he wasn't ready to talk about his emotions. It was straining enough to control them so he'd rather keep them to himself.

But all his efforts to concentrate solely on the case were disrupted every now and then by a clear image of Jeff. It made him restless and he hated that feeling. It deprived him of setting the puzzle together. Earlier he had blushed when McMahon mentioned the tattoo artist and stuttered something that didn't really make sense.

The older Agent had given him a suspicious glare but let the issue go. Cody knew that he shouldn't hold back. But how on earth was he able to explain his strange connection with Jeff? He couldn't very well say that he had rough and unprotected sex with a possible suspect could he?

_Jeff was cleared,_ he thought feeling that last strain of doubt. He sighed and turned around to his computer screen. It wouldn't be right to check up on him, would it? He still typed in the full name of the tattoo artist and waited. Several pages popped up, all connected to the art of tattooing.

Jericho was right Jeff had quite a reputation regarding his work. Cody narrowed his search down to the Cameron area and only found one entry at a local high school. They only had listed his name and the year but nothing personal that might tell something more about the man he, much to his own surprise, was falling for in a way he hadn't thought possible.

Cody raised an eyebrow when the name popped up again later in a local newspaper entry. Apparently, Jeff had been in the chess club of the high school and it surprised him because he hadn't thought him to be interested in something like that. After high school, the name never showed up in any databases.

That seemed odd enough because usually a person always left some traces. Jeff seemed to have vanished from the world until he showed up in Los Angeles. _He doesn't fit the profile,_ Cody kept telling himself, feeling slightly disturbed by the fact that he had not found anything.

Sometimes the lack of data was more suspicious than anything else. He wondered if Jeff might know about the killer. Was it possible? It could be possibly that he simply didn't care about the victims enough. So far, Cody had never seen the owner of the tattoo studio. Maybe there was a connection.

Finally realizing that nothing of his research was getting him anywhere, he decided to go back. He kept telling himself that he would not let anything happen, that this visit was strictly FBI business. Yet, Cody did not tell anybody else about it. He knew that his boss would order him to not even dare. He could almost hear McMahon saying that if he really suspected this guy to know something that they would bring him in for interrogation.

The thought of that was making him shiver because he could imagine how they would react should they find out what exactly Cody allowed Jeff to do to him. No, it would be much safer to go there alone, he assured himself for the hundredth time.

* * *

Jeff looked different. It was the first thing Cody noticed. The tattoo artist looked somewhat frazzled. His eyes sparkling with agitation as they gazed over his body.

Cody swallowed hard when Jeff grinned widely and approached him. "Cody, I didn't expect you so early," he said with a rasping voice.

Instantly every inch of his body was alerted and it cost Cody all of his strength to move back. "I'm here to ask you some questions."

Arrogantly the older man tilted his head to the side. "Are you trying to be an Agent again?"

"I am. Some things just don't round up, you know."

Raising an eyebrow Jeff leaned his back against the counter and Cody tried hard not to look at the bare skin that shimmered through the lifted shirt.

"What things don't add up Agent Rhodes?" Jeff asked with a lascivious grin on his face.

"Are you sure you don't know those boys?"

"I never said that. I might have known them. The city is so full of boys like that and I'm always on the hunt. Why? Am I a suspect again?" The way Jeff asked the question was confusing Cody because it seemed that the older guy would welcome that.

"I really just want…"

"No, Cody. This is not how this game works. I'll answer all of your stupid questions but I want something in return," Jeff said and licked his lips.

Trying to sound like an authority figure Cody replied firmly "I'm not here for games. This is official business of the Federal Bureau…"

"Shut up. Don't give me that FBI standard crap. You're not here on official business. I bet no one in your office even knows that you're here. Decide for yourself, Cody if you want your answers," Jeff interrupted him with a cocky voice, turned around, and went upstairs.

Dumbfounded, Cody watched him leave and swallowed. His first impulse was to turn around and leave but his mind was not exactly communicating with his body. He stared at the walls, then outside to the streets and scratched his head. This was so unprofessional that he shouldn't even consider it.

Instead, he should drive back and tell Agent McMahon that Jeff was hiding something because that was exactly what Cody thought, as he was standing alone in the store. However, something deep inside of him started to find excuses for every step he made towards the stairs.

Cody told himself that time was an issue. That he could get the answers he needed faster if he would just comply. He told himself that he might be able to safe poor Antony Manford's life if he would act a little more bravely. With every lie he assured himself that he was doing the right thing even though deep down he knew he wasn't doing this for anyone else than himself.

Jeff's amused face angered him because he knew that he had done exactly what the tattoo artist expected him to do. Nervously he stood in the doorframe and waited for a reaction. With a broad, smile Jeff suddenly said, "Well, Cody I see you are a very determined Agent. How about you start asking me questions now?"

At first, Cody was startled because it seemed so easy but once he opened his mouth he was interrupted by Jeff's voice again who demanded, "While you are doing that I suggest you strip."

Cody watched the older man leaning against the wall with a triumphant facial impression and was very aware that his uncomfortable state was arousing Jeff.

"I…I would rather…"

"I, I," Jeff mocked him and laughed. "Look Agent Rhodes you aren't getting any answers unless you undress yourself. If you don't want to do that you can leave right now."

This definitely could not be called a usual FBI questioning, Cody thought feeling so completely uneasy that his hands trembled whilst he lifted his shirt. He noticed Jeff's glassy eyes gazing over his naked chest and he needed to inhale sharply.

"Do you know anything about the tattoos?" Cody asked with a trembling voice.

Almost bored Jeff rolled his eyes. "I already told you they are custom made. What else is there to know?"

Asking those questions while undressing himself didn't exactly increase Cody's confidence and he felt ridiculous yet he still went on by pulling down his pants.

"But could we find out who made them?"

"Shut up already. I don't know. Maybe. You have to use your brilliant mind for that. But honestly, I don't care. I don't even care about those boys. Right now," he growled pointing at Cody's obvious erection. "You don't care either."

Jeff stood up and Cody noticed that he had his hands inside his pants. The sight was having a profound affect on him but he still tried to shake his rising prurience off by saying, "I care. Fuck, I shouldn't do this…" Cody's face blushed and he attempted to pull up his pants.

"Don't you dare, Cody. We're not done yet."

"What do you want from me anyway?" Cody asked and wished himself away.

"The truth," Jeff answered and before Cody could react, he was pushed against the bed, stripped of his boxers and let out a yelp of surprise when Jeff's cold hands crawled up his body.

"I shouldn't do this. I really shouldn't do this," Cody repeated and tried to push the guy off him.

"You shouldn't, you shouldn't. God, Cody you are really messed up. I'm not letting you go so stop fighting."

Cody reacted with short, sharp breathing when he felt Jeff wrapping his hand around his erection.

"You want me to hurt you. Because you are so hurt inside," Jeff spoke very slowly and put more pressure into the massage.

"Please, let…me…go," Cody hissed out breathlessly, trying to move. He didn't want to be profiled, let alone by this guy, and most certainly not in that situation.

Jeff however only grinned viciously at him and Cody noticed from the corner of his eyes that the tattoo artist was masturbating himself. Somehow, it was different than the last time and Cody realized that Jeff was far more active, far more agitated then before. Something was making him act much more intensely.

"Tell me about your life, Cody," Jeff suddenly said and let go of Cody's erection, lifted his hips and pulled him closer. He pushed his hips forward and for a second Cody feared that he would faint under the blinding pain that spread out inside his body. As unprepared as he was, he still let out a groan and instinctively pushed against Jeff's thrusts.

_This is wrong,_ he thought yet his mind was filled up with overwhelming pleasure and therefore he pushed all doubts aside. The pain seethed inside him and every move Jeff made increased it. He had his eyes closed and was not aware that Jeff had pulled out a sharp object.

The second the blade touched his throat his eyes fluttered opened and he let out a surprised gasp.

"W…what the fuck?"

Jeff moved his hips and jerked deeper inside him, pressing the small knife against his skin and hissed out, "Isn't that what you wanted?"

Cody pressed his head back, trying to avoid contact with the blade but every time Jeff pushed forward, he could feel the coldness grazing over his skin. Sweat started pouring from his forehead and he panted helplessly.

"Come on, Cody," Jeff's voice was filled up with salacious vibration as he leaned forwards and breezed against his face. "How long did it take them to die?"

Panic spread out and adrenaline flushed through his veins as Cody tried to move and snarled out, "Fuck you. Stop that."

He winced when the blade cut through his skin only slightly. Jeff didn't stop his movements but was only slowly penetrating him.

"You've watched them die, didn't you? So, how long Cody? How long until they stopped breathing?"

The thing that made Cody's despair much greater was that he felt his body reacting with pleasure sounds to that treatment. He felt Jeff's hard cock slicing through him and was aware of the sharp blade against his skin. Unsure why it made him hard and he moaned out, moving his head to the side.

Jeff's voice transformed into heavy breathing sounds as he repeated his question filling Cody's mind up with images of his worst nightmares. Suddenly he could see the women and the blood dropping slowly from their throats. He couldn't shut them out they came crashing into his head and as much as he hated it he became more aroused.

In a state between climaxing and throwing up he finally grinded out the answer through his teeth: "I don't… don't know. Please, don't make me…remember…"

He started crying when he came and felt the warm liquid splashing over his stomach. His helpless moans triggered something in Jeff and Cody stared into those green eyes as they fluttered close. With short breaths, Cody watched Jeff climaxing, stared at those half open lips and realized that his despair was causing that kind of pleasure.

Cody freed himself from the now shivering body and slipped off the bed breathing erratically in and out. "You asshole!"

Jeff replied with a loud laughter and almost choked. "Oh, come on you didn't really think I would slash your throat, did you?" His body was shimmering with sweat as he casually leaned to the side and threw the knife in Cody's direction.

"Fuck you," Cody snapped out angrily and threw the knife against the wall. "That wasn't very funny."

Jeff crawled towards him and Cody gave him a confused look as the older man slowly wiped away some of Cody's essence from his stomach. He held up his finger into the air before he licked it off saying with a dark voice, "Seemed like you liked it, though."

Shame overcame him and he angrily wiped away his tears and stood up. "I didn't."

"Yes, you did. I bet you did that before. You know, jerking off thinking about the blood and the dying eyes," Jeff growled and leaned back.

"Shut up. Shut the fuck up. You don't know me so shut up," he almost screamed, utterly shocked about his thoughts and the truth he hated to hear.

Cody was scared. Scared of this man and how well he could see through him. He was scared over his reaction to the blade and ashamed. So ashamed that it almost deprived him of air and made him cough. Once again, he wished himself home. Locked up in his room with no one around.

"Calm down," Jeff said almost softly but still not very caring.

"I'm not crazy," Cody suddenly said cursing himself for his words.

"Oh, but you are. We all are. Everyone is crazy, Cody. You are no exception. You are living in the past that's your problem. That is the reason why you can't find your killer because you're living in the past," he said and slowly moved up: "All you do is search for the reasons behind those actions. You're good at that but you are forgetting one very important aspect. People change."

With that, Jeff got up and quickly dressed himself. Cody watched him as he brushed through his hair and lit himself a cigarette. He still stared at the empty spot long after Jeff left the room. So much for FBI business, he thought and finally moved.

Small trails of blood were running down his throat as he watched himself in the reflection. Cody knew he had gone too far. He felt such sadness when he left the tattoo store as if something had ripped his soul apart. Adding to his problems were three unanswered call at his cell phone.

All three were made by his boss and by the third one the voice of the older man was more or less screaming at Cody's voicemail box: "Where the fuck are you? We found Antony Manford. I want you in this office now!"

_Fuck,_ Cody thought, knowing that he looked like shit, yet he had to drive back to the office.

Cody's appearance made some of the officers stare at him and he tried hard to hide the cuts on his neck. Nervously he shifted on the seat whilst he was waiting for Agent McMahon. They told him to wait in the Agent's office and Cody couldn't shake off the anxious feeling that something was wrong. Did they know what he had done?

He flinched when the door swung open and lowered his eyes when the older man sat down at the other side of the table.

"Where were you?"

"Just driving around," Cody lied thinking that it would be best to wait and see if they knew anything about his secret meeting with Jeff.

"We found the body of Antony Manford. You know what this means?"

"That the killer is moving unusually fast. He doesn't wait longer than a day to find a new victim." Cody answered, trying to sound like a professional profiler.

"Exactly. And now would you be so kind to explain to me how the fuck your motel key card ended up in the victims back pocket?" Agent McMahon screamed and slammed his fist on the table.

Everything around suddenly felt cold and oddly out of place.

"W… what?"

"Victim #5 had a key card in his pocket. We traced it back and it was registered to the Travelodge on Pico Boulevard, Santa Monica. It is _your_ key card, Cody. The Bureau is freaking out and they're sending another profiler as we speak."

There was only one person Cody could think of but instead of saying his name, he was frozen on his seat unable to form words. It couldn't be, he thought frantically, he doesn't fit the profile.

"Cody you really have to start talking now because it doesn't look good," McMahon said carefully.

"I…I don't know. I don't know what happened," Cody stuttered sounding like a child that was caught with the hands in the cookie jar.

"You are a suspect, Cody. They officially declared you a suspect."

"But I wasn't even here when the first boy was killed. I didn't even know about this case before _you_ brought me here. Please, you don't really believe that I…" Cody's voice cracked because he was no longer able to defend himself. The easiest way would be mentioning Jeff but that would also mean that he'd have to confess what he was doing with him. He just couldn't do that.

"I know that. Believe me I know. But others will find ways to work around that. Technically you could have done it, flown back and waited for us to call you. You know that you are currently one of the best profilers the bureau has. You could have anticipated that we would call you. Besides I received your file, Cody. Why did you never mention that you have a slight problem with lying?"

Cody felt like a ten year-old boy again and he knew what was coming. He braced himself against it, curling his lips in a defensive way. "I don't lie."

"According to your file you lied quite a lot back in the days, mainly about your relationship with your dad. Psychology reports stating that you have problem with reality and repeatedly told everybody that your relationship with your father was very socially intact yet your father himself stated that he barely communicated with you at all."

Cody wanted to reach out and hit his boss right in that moment but couldn't even move. His heart was racing furiously as the older man went on ignoring his tears.

"You told them your dad went with you to Disneyland but that was lie. The truth is that he was not really talking to you in general. He didn't show you how to drive a car or take you out for camping. You were just there for the ride."

"The truth, Cody is that _you_ are fitting the profile you created yourself. Childhood trauma, weak, health problems. As a kid, you always wanted to have what others have. A normal life and you worked hard to keep up that illusion. Some teachers who knew you stated that you pretended to have the perfect dad…"

"Stop, please stop," Cody suddenly sobbed. He lifted his eyes and fixed them on Agent McMahon. "What do you expect me to do?" His voice was shaking with tears as he went on, "I had no one else, okay? I knew that he did horrible things. I've seen them. But he was my dad. All… all I wanted was to be with him. What the fuck was I supposed to say? They took him away and I knew that they were going to fucking kill him."

The older agent watched him silently as he incoherently spat out why he had been lying.

"Okay, so he wasn't talking much but he was still my dad and I didn't know anyone else. I made up those stories because it made me feel better. I knew that it wasn't the truth but…what's the difference? I thought by saying all of that they would maybe not take him away. You want to know the truth? I wish I could turn back time just to be with him."

Cody was crying so intensely that some of his words were swallowed but he had started and now couldn't stop himself. "I just couldn't understand why. The first time it happened the woman had yelled at us for taking her parking space. I thought that was the reason and I couldn't understand why that made him so angry. He always said they were too loud. I didn't understand and so I ignored it."

"Cody," McMahon said with a soft voice but couldn't get through.

"She died and I didn't understand what had happened. Therefore, I cleaned up because it was messy and there was fucking blood everywhere. I couldn't understand my dad because he was just watching her. I thought if I helped him clean up, everything would be okay. He promised that it would never happen again…" He snivelled and wiped away his tears with the back of sleeves lifting his eyes and staring at his boss. "He said that 21 times and I believed him because what else could I do? I believed him…because I loved him and I know he loved me. I didn't lie because I wanted to deceive anybody. I lied because…I didn't want to lose him. They took him away. They took away my life… so I made it a little better. But I didn't kill those boys…why would I? I never wanted to be like them."

"Cody, please calm down. Honestly I don't know what to think. All I know is that somehow there is a connection between you and those killings. I want to believe you, trust me I really want to but this is some serious shit and I really need to know how this could happen," Agent McMahon said, but Cody was only sobbing and not replying.

Slowly the older man stood up and before he left he placed a hand on the trembling shoulders, "I'll be right back."

Agent McMahon hated his job the moment he left Cody alone. In addition, he felt responsible; after all he was the one who had asked for the profiler. He didn't want to believe that this boy could have done such horrible things but he was a man of evidence.

Outside of his office Agent Nattie Neidhart was standing next to a small monitor. She gave him a small nod and pushed her red hair behind her ear.

"So, Agent Neidhart what do you think?"

She was not replying at first still staring at the small screen that showed the inside of McMahon's office and was reminded of the time she had watched a scared little boy inside an interrogation room. This time the boy was an adult yet she still felt uncomfortable. With a sigh, she turned around.

"At this point Agent McMahon I don't really know. Obviously, he is hiding something. Something he feels so ashamed off that he rather opens up about something he had never opened up before. You see Cody is a very smart young man. He always has been and he knows how to play this game."

The older Agent raised an eyebrow. "What game?"

"The game of acting. Don't get me wrong he isn't deliberately doing it but he's used to the fact that if he's a ten year-old confused boy people usually leave him alone eventually. I was working with him for six months after his father was sentenced and he could never really make up his mind about his part in this messed up game of his life. Sometimes he was the victim and wanted sympathy. Everything was everybody else's fault. His life, his dad even that his cat went missing. It was all our fault. Sometimes he was hostile towards others and sometimes he was lying about his life."

"Do you believe he could have done it?"

"No, I don't believe he could be capable of it but he is hiding something and I think we have to find out before Cody will do something very stupid."

* * *

**Thanks to my reviewers:** Animal _Luvr 4 Life, Tina _(love you too!!)_, Dark Kaneanite, wrestlefan4_ **and** _DarkSoul01_

**I'm on a bit of a roll today as I've already started chapter 7, so expect that one later on ;-)**

**Loves ya!**

**Angel**

**xxx**


	7. Chapter 7

**The song used at the end of this chapter is Papercut by Linkin Park**

**Chapter 7**

_**"The victim is a dirty platter after the feast and the washing up is a clinical ordinary task. Occasionally I hear a piece of music - of music which was playing during the time of the killings. Then I become extremely disturbed..." - Dennis Andrew Nilsen **_

'_He's angry,' she thought and wrote something down. It was unusual to see him that agitated because Cody mostly stayed somewhere in the distance unreachable for anyone. _

_Victoria Varon sat at a small desk outside her testing room and was watching Cody through a small camera. Cody was thirteen and had been admitted to the institution three weeks ago. Because of an intense emotional outburst, his foster parents realized that they needed help. It had been three years since Cody was taken away from his father and his diagnosis was concerning._

_Pushing her long reddish black hair back, she stared at the file in front of her._

'_Patient suffers from various disorders including OCD, Panic disorder, and Nightmare disorder, Oppositional defiant disorder. The patient is traumatized and has trouble adjusting to reality. He has built up a fantasy world in his mind and rarely communicates on a clear-minded level._

_His body has severely reacted to the lack of sleep and a mild eating disorder. Nurses reported mood swings reaching from aggression to indifference. Nervous habits such as chewing on his fingernails or self-mutilation due intense scratching have developed since his was released to his caretakers three years ago.'_

_Three weeks ago Mrs. DiDiase had caught the teenager masturbating, which as she stated during the admitting interview hadn't shocked nor surprised her. Since she has another son, she was angrier that she had walked in on him like that than the act itself._

_It is a common thing in normal families. After all, the children grow up and there is no stopping that. Cody was utterly shocked. He reacted aggressively, angrily and irrationally. Mrs. DiBiase, although known to be a very caring person said that she was 'scared'._

_Victoria had her suspicions about the reason behind that extreme emotional reaction but she hadn't reached a point to actually talk about that subject. _

_Her eyes were fixed on the young patient with whom she had spent almost every waking hour during the past three weeks. It had seriously tested her relationship since she'd barely spent any time at home. Mostly because she was fascinated. He still did not trust her when she started a few experiments with him. Cody almost complied in an odd submissive manner. Even though he acted hostile and annoyed, he still did everything he was asked._

_On this day, she had him wait. He was sitting in that room for almost two hours now with nobody walking in or telling him anything. Victoria was sure that all this time Cody had not looked for a way out but for an explanation. He tried to figure out the meaning of this and since it seemed random and illogical he couldn't figure it out. _

_Cody had a brilliant mind. During various test results, his IQ was rumoured to be almost 150. His disorders however were preventing him from actually using that sort of intelligence. _

_It wasn't helping him. If anything, it made it all worse. Samantha had worked out a theory, something that comes naturally to a psychiatrist. To her Cody's mind seemed to work like a computer. It processed every fact given and transformed it to something logical. _

_Cody had trouble reading books because his mind was constantly tearing the sentences apart, structuring them together like he believed they would sound perfect. Every little thing in his life he takes apart, putting the pieces back together to receive a logical explanation. Unfortunately, life wasn't logical. _

_He wasn't receiving answers to his own questions. Victoria suspected that a lot of this was a direct result of the interrogation he went under after his father was arrested. She studied his file thoroughly and it gave away how much pressure he was under back then. The FBI was treated him like a suspect and expected answers he couldn't provide. _

_It wasn't surprising, given the circumstances of his childhood. From what Victoria gathered he'd been drifting through the country along side his father with little social contact. There was no one to answer Cody's question therefore he answered them himself. He was smart enough to know that he couldn't do that anymore. _

_Mostly he had it under control. Pushed it aside or made it better with some carefully mentioned lies. Nothing too extravagant, he never made his dad a spy but small seemingly normal things. Some of it might have been true but some of it was pure fiction. _

_Somehow, the world seemed a bit more logical to him when he did that. Victoria had learned very early on that there was no way to approach him about that. Therefore, she started to use other techniques. She tried to reach him on a purely logical base but quickly realized that Cody's logic was a unique one. _

_She sighed and looked at her watch. It was long enough, she decided and moved up. _

_Cody eyed her suspiciously. His arms were crossed firmly in front of his chest. It almost made him look like a normal angry teenager. _

"_Hello Cody," she started with a friendly voice and instantly earned a deadly glare. _

"_Very funny," Cody said making a face. _

"_What do you think is funny?"_

"_Letting me rot here for over two hours. What is that supposed to say about me?"_

_Cody was too young to notice that the game had already started._

"_If you have patience for example," she said softly, sitting down and opened a folder. _

"_I don't," he snarled but swallowed down the rest of his anger._

_It was always interesting to register that although he was such an anti-social character he seemed to be looking forward to the session. Maybe he told himself that this might help him to understand the world and most importantly his life. Yet, there was this little spot hidden behind his eyes. Awareness and caution. The boy was always in fear. _

_His fear had itself clawed deep into the subconscious and it was not letting him go. The fear had collaborated up with guilt and never went away. Cody never opened up about what he exactly feared but it was always there and put him in a constant anxiety. _

_Victoria really wanted to help him. Sure, she was eager to earn credits but she also wished that she could rid him of this sadness. _

"_Well, you stayed quite calm," she replied, deliberately giving him a compliment. _

_Only a little shadow of pride washed over his facial expression before it was filled with doubt again. "I guess. What are we doing today? Or was that the test?"_

_Sometimes she couldn't help but smile, amused. He could be surprisingly polite and sometimes read her and everything she attempted to do. Victoria knew that it was making all of this harder but she had to acknowledge that he was sometimes smarter than her._

"_What do you want it to be?"_

_He shrugged and his eyes shifted. It was another unique characteristic. Sometimes he seemed like he had faded out. Victoria always wondered where his mind was drifting in those moments._

_Cody was weighing up his options before he lifted his eyes giving her a blank stare. "I don't care," he answered truthfully because he probably didn't really care at all. _

"_You're still angry about the wait, aren't you?"_

"_No."_

"_Are you hungry?" She suddenly switched the subject, noticing his puzzled look. _

"_No," he croaked knowing that he was playing to her hand. _

"_You aren't hungry very often, are you?" Her voice sounded casual, as if she was interested in his secret to keeping his weight. _

"_What do you really want to ask me?" Cody had had enough. It was always him who would stop those little back and forth Q & A's. He felt uncomfortable. His nervousness was visible in his body language. His eyes moving slightly and he shifted around his chair. _

"_Would you answer?"_

"_Depends on the question," he replied with curled lips. His awareness was reflecting out of his eyes. _

"_Would you talk about the incident at home?" Victoria thought it would be best to be honest and blunt. Cody had a choice. _

_His face blushed and his body started rocking back and forth, as he thought about his answer. Samantha watched him closely, noticing every detail that would give away his state of mind. His hands were playing nervously around, his lips slightly trembling. He wanted to talk. It was obvious. _

"_I'm not…feeling okay with answering any kind of question about that," he suddenly said, sounding somehow like a politician. _

"_But you might answer them anyway?"_

_He shrugged lowering his eyes to the ground. _

"_You're thirteen years-old Cody. You're a teenager. There was nothing wrong with what you did. I believe you know that. So, I'm wondering why you became so angry."_

_Victoria knew that he wanted to back out. The puzzle pieces were frazzled and he couldn't put them together. Instead, he pulled back and became silent. _

"_Cody?"_

"_Hmm." He lifted his eyes gazing at her almost dreamingly. As if his mind had left him. _

"_It's natural to have these urges and fantasies."_

_Cody frowned the second she said fantasies and gave away a clue. _

"_I think we should call it off for today," he whispered wanting so badly to run away. _

"_Do you think of something bad when you do it?" The question was so bluntly asked that Cody stumbled for a second and gave her an angry look. Victoria knew she was right in her assumption._

_It was nothing unusual and it wasn't unexpected. In his nightmares, he was haunted by his past and it created moments of a high adrenaline level. Fear, guilt even panic made him wake up soaked in sweat almost every night. The chemical reactions to that sort of high tense moments are similar to sexual arousal. _

_He was a young boy growing into a young man. The only problem was that no one had ever taking the time to talk to him about hitting puberty because everyone always focused on the child that was traumatized. She strengthened herself and very carefully chose her words. _

"_You don't have to be ashamed of your fantasies, Cody. They are not harming anyone."_

"_Yes, they are," he snapped and instantly sunk back into his motionless state._

"_No, it's just imagination. You know many people have such fantasies. It's very common."_

"_I don't think so," he whispered and started to fight with tears of shame. _

"_What do you think about? You don't have to answer if you don't want to. It's very private."_

"_Blood," he growled and suddenly stared right into her eyes. She wondered if he was testing her. _

"_Yours or someone else's?"_

_Cody was 13. He had not made up his mind yet._

* * *

The second Cody spotted Agent Neidhart entering his room he felt uncomfortable. His mind had been working frantically for the last couple of seconds and he desperately tried to find a way out of this mess, preferably without giving away the details to his relationship to Jeff.

Seeing her made that much more difficult. She was trained to see through him and he was never able to be at ease around her. Cody swallowed and tried to hold her gaze but blinked after a few seconds cursing himself in the back of his head.

Like an image of his past she was carrying a yellow folder and placed it carefully at the table. Cody noticed that she had become older. Her movements weren't as slender as they were years ago. She wore her hair up and it gave away the slow aging of her skin.

"Hello Cody," she said and he felt like a ten year-old boy again.

"Agent Price, nice to see you again," he lied poorly and slid around his chair.

Nattie lowered herself into the seat and watched him closely. She noticed that he had really grown up. His cheekbones were giving away his poor eating habits. The paleness of his skin and the dark shadows surrounding his eyes confirmed his lack of sleep. Even though he was an adult now the scared little boy was still there.

"I was called this morning and luckily I was in the city," she said casually and opened the folder, adding, "You seem to be in a quite a mess here."

Cody smirked and lowered his eyes. "Yeah, you could say that."

"Are you going to tell me how your key card ended up in the victims back pocket?"

"I wish I could but I don't _know_," he snapped a little too hasty.

"You're a good profiler," Nattie suddenly said switching the subject.

"Apparently I'm not," he croaked quietly.

"I've seen your results. Your ability to put the pieces together is outstanding. You helped to solve some very complicated cases but I was surprised to hear that you left home, though."

Cody lifted his eyes and wondered if she was sincere.

"They ordered me here," he replied in a stern voice. It was his only defence so far. He didn't know anything about the murders before he got here and they had to believe him.

"Yes. You're right they did. I have to admit I was angry about that because I recommended that you would be given those kinds of cases solely in your home environment. But then you are the best the Bureau…"

Cody rolled his eyes, replying with a harsh tone waving with his voice, "You haven't changed at all. You are still searching for the hidden agenda. I didn't know _anything_ about this fucking case before they sent me the file. I would have never opened the Fed-Ex package if I would have known. I didn't want to come to this city. I told them I rather stay home. Ask Agent McMahon why he persisted to get me down here."

Agent Neidhart couldn't help but being reminded of the young boy she had worked with six long weeks, which was straining for them both. His voice had an angry defiance to it that made him sound so innocent. Yet, this time he wasn't twelve; he was an adult. He had been trained by the FBI and he knew the rules that came with this job.

"Agent McMahon told me you've developed quite a love for the field recently," she eyed him curiously and Cody blushed.

"I know that was a mistake. But I'm here and I'm fine. I've read him wrong."

"Who?"

_Fuck,_ he thought knowing he had giving away too much and there was no way to turn back.

"Jeffrey Hardy. He's working in a tattoo studio near the UCLA campus and since all victims had been inked I thought I should ask some question about the techniques and chemicals used in that field." His voice was shaking and betrayed his professional statement. He could read it in her face. She didn't believe him.

"You didn't believe that Mr. Hardy could be a possible suspect?"

_First rule in investigating a crime. Everyone who shows up in the picture is a possible subject. Screw the innocent until proven otherwise statement. _

Cody sighed and shook his head, "No, I didn't. He wasn't fitting the profile."

"Profiles aren't a certainty in this line of work."

He wanted to hit her or scream at her, anything to make her stop talking to him like he was too dumb for this job. Making two fists, he hid his hands under the desk.

"You're right. I jumped to conclusions and it wasn't my place to make that judgment. I was convinced he wasn't the one we were looking for."

Cody was smart and brought the 'we' into the picture. Making sure to mention that they were on the same side. It did not work on the female Agent.

"What convinced you?"

"He was very self-conscious and arrogant. You could use the word slick. I simply doubted that someone with such confidence would have done it. I may have been wrong but at that point of the investigation everything pointed out to a different person."

She flicked through the pages of her folder. "Someone like you?"

He couldn't control his temper and found himself angrily snarling out: "I didn't do it. Dammit, why would I? I admit that profile sounded a lot like me but it's not my fault that I'm fitting almost every fucking profile. He was too aware of his charm. Too aware of his attraction."

Nattie raised an eyebrow.

"You found him attractive?"

Go to hell, he thought and did the only thing he could think off he pulled back. He curled his lips and turned his gaze away becoming silent.

"Did you?"

Tiredly he rubbed his eyes before he answered in a very slow voice, "I considered him an attractive person, yes."

"What did you talk about?"

"Tattoos."

"Nothing more? Nothing more intimate?"

Even though his mind screamed to let it go he couldn't hold his anger back and with a rapid move he suddenly rose up and slammed his fist on the table: "No. _Nothing_. I made a bad judgment. That's all. I wanna go home."

The last words came out desperately and she gave him a compassionate smile, "I know. The faster you tell the truth the faster you'll get home."

_Dammit,_ Cody thought frantically realizing that he wasn't to be let off the hook. They suspected what he was hiding and it made him feel sick. He wondered if they placed bets. Officer Jericho might be betting on the wrong horse, though. As much as he tried to deny it, he knew that what he was doing was wrong.

For all he knew Jeff could be the killer. There were other young men in jeopardy yet he was still withholding information.

He lowered himself back in the chair. Sinking into himself like a house out of cards that had just received a heavy blow. What was he doing? Why was the wish to see Jeff alone before the FBI so much stronger than anything else? He knew they wouldn't let him go unless he gave it up.

Either way Cody was out of the game. If they believe him they would send him home nonetheless because he was a liability and obviously unfit for duty. Somehow, the killer had gotten a hold of a personal belonging and that only proved his carelessness. Should he decide to keep his secret they would probably simply order him to stay here under observation or worse arrest him.

Agent Neidhart noticed the shadows washing over his face, noticing the trembling of his shoulders as he tried to set the pieces together in his head. Cody blinked when a sharp pain sliced through his head. Maybe she was right. The faster he confessed.

"I can't believe you don't believing me," he said to gain a bit more time.

"I never said that, Cody. Don't twist my words. From Profiler to Profiler let me tell you how I see it:

"You probably already felt uncomfortable when you arrived in this city. You're not used to a loud city like Los Angeles. But you were eager to solve this case because I believe you 'need' to solve those cases. Sort of like a road to redemption. When the media got a hold of your name and your story it all fell apart. I think you went to that Tattoo studio out of anger and to prove something to yourself."

"You've met this mysterious man, who as you said was very self-conscious and arrogant. The opposite of you I'd say. You were attracted to him and I presume you did give into a sexual indulgence. Now, you're ashamed and embarrassed and want to set things right. You probably think about seeing him alone again, which would not only be against protocol but also highly dangerous because you know as well as I do that the suspect has made a personal connection to you."

Cody hated to be profiled. He had always hated it. He dreaded the truth that lay in her words. Silently he listened to her giving a full and very plausible explanation for his actions and hated her with every fibre in his body. Another thing Cody hated even more than being torn apart by a psychiatrist was the feeling that surfaced inside him.

A strong urge to reach over the table, grab her by the sleeve of her neatly fitting white blouse, and crash her head against the wall. It waved over him like a flash and he winced under the image instantly feeling guilty for having such violent thoughts.

"I had sexual contact with him," he finally breezed out and partly imagined the Agents and officers starting to collect or pay the bets.

"More than once?"

"Two times," he lied because he wanted to keep something solely to himself.

"Was there any violence involved?"

Slowly he shook his head. It wasn't that sort of violence she was looking for anyway; he assured himself to keep his mouth shut.

"Are your feelings for the suspect of a romantic nature?"

After a long pause he let out a deep breath. "No. I barely know him. It was strictly physical contact. I really didn't know. I think he must have stolen my key card the last time I saw him."

Agent Neidhart closed the folder and gazed at him. "I believe you. You're right, Cody you really fucked this up. But I believe that you didn't know or believe that Mr. Hardy was involved in the crimes. Or maybe you didn't _want _to believe that he was capable of such a horrible thing. I'll talk to the bureau and suggest that you are allowed to fly home. You'll be under house arrest until the investigation is closed. I think that is in everybody's best interest."

There were several logical reasons why she would suggest that. It was obvious to her that Cody was struggling with an inner conflict, had barely eaten, barely slept and the stress was slowly tearing him apart.

She would make her case over the possibility that Cody might be on the verge of a nervous breakdown and was in intense need of familiar surroundings. A place he would feel safe. The Bureau would most likely agree because should Cody be the killer it would also pull the suspect out of his hunting ground.

It was over. He wasn't exactly sure how that made him feel, yet he moved up and followed her outside. As they were passing the interrogation room he gazed through the glass and narrowed his eyes.

"Who's that?"

Agent Neidhart couldn't hide her puzzlement as she answered. "Jeffrey Hardy."

For a moment Cody wanted to laugh but restrained himself. "No, he's not."

"He's got papers, credit cards and all the tattoos you described in your report."

Cody had stopped not really aware that Agent McMahon had also approached. The young profiler's voice sounded like drifting when he said, "He's got his haircut, the clothing is correct and yes those are the tattoos but I'm telling you that is not Jeffrey Hardy. Maybe you should check out the fingerprints."

"They are currently processed," Agent McMahon said and Cody flinched.

"Agent McMahon," he lowered his eyes and carefully added, "I'm sorry I let you down."

"It's okay Cody. It was probably my fault. I shouldn't have brought you here. Well, I see they are sending you home," he replied in a very sad voice.

"Yeah. I'm not much of a city person, I guess."

"Good luck, Cody and maybe next time be careful who to trust," McMahon said quietly.

"Seems to be I should stop trusting myself," Cody replied and nodded a goodbye before he turned around.

Cody wasn't sure if the older Agent was disappointed or angry with him. He didn't know him all too well but it still pained him to be such a failure. He cleaned out his office under the supervision of Officer Jericho and was surprisingly allowed to take some copies with him. Just as he was about to leave the office an annoying sound reached his ear.

Jericho gave him a nod of approval and Cody grabbed the fax.

_Regarding: Jeffrey N. Hardy. _

_You are looking for background information on Hardy Jr. I'd happily provide them for you but unfortunately our computer system broke down a couple of weeks ago. _

_Almost all files were lost. However, we still have some handwritten files stored here and because of the severity of the Incident, we all remembered. _

A number was printed under the fax and Cody turned around to Chris.

"Can I make a call? It will help this investigation. I promise I won't fuck up this time."

To the young officer Cody sounded sincere enough, besides Chris was against this witch-hunt as it felt to him and so he checked out the corridor and gave Cody a nod.

Two hours later Cody left the Travelodge with Officer Jericho and another young cop he hadn't seen before and sat in a car to the airport. The puzzle of this was unsolved and it was rattling on him. He had to take a sedative to control his blood pressure. On the other hand, he was about to go home.

That was the straw he was holding onto trying very hard not to think of Jeff. He had talked to the principal of Jeff's old high school and she promised him to email him the important facts. The tattoo artist was in his head and it didn't look that he had any intention to leave. Maybe it was best to leave this city, Cody thought and blinked the tiredness away.

LAX was surely one of the ugliest airports in the world but Cody didn't really pay any attention. His eyes were starring blankly at the carpet not really noticing the lack of taste that was used to put it there. Officer Jericho had tried to start a conversation but was quickly blocked by Cody's silence.

Cody let out a sigh after seeming like being in trance and opened his laptop. The small black board lay on his knees as he connected to the web. He patched his code into the window and waited anxiously for the emails floating in. His heart jumped when he noticed that the one he was waiting for was there.

He opened it and started to read. After half an hour, his profile about Jeff had changed. Cody hadn't been all wrong but he had missed a very important issue. He'd forgotten about time. Cody was pulled out of his thoughts when Officer Jericho softly touched his shoulder, "They're starting to check people in."

Cody turned it of and closed the laptop moving out of the seat with a small groan. His bones were aching from the stress and he said, "I have to use the bathroom."

"Yeah, right sure," The young cop said his eyes gazing over the crowd as if he could make out the terrorists just by observing.

Cody left everything back on the seat and lazily walked towards the restrooms. He released himself and moved over to the mirrors. The sedatives were kicking in and he yawned and stretched himself. He leaned down to the sink to swallow some cold water. When he moved up everything around him froze.

A tattooed arm was laid around his neck and he felt hot breath hitting his skin.

"Cody, I'm disappointed. You really wanted leave without saying good-bye."

Cody's mind started to race frantically with a way to escape. The cold blade of the small knife Jeff was holding pressed against his back made him inhale sharply and it took all his strength to say, "They are coming in here. There is no way to escape."

Jeff's cold laugher reached his brain shortly before he was dragged outside and pulled into the ladies room. With his arm tight around Cody's neck he was waiting. A few minutes later Officer Jericho passed them in order to check up on Cody. At that moment Jeff moved.

He was quickly out of the restroom and entered a storage room with stairs. Cody was surprised how well this was planned. His head was already carefully putting the pieces together in order to stop himself from panicking when felt something hard crashing against the back of his head.

Cody felt warm blood running down his neck before everything turned black.

* * *

"This is Officer Jericho," he almost shouted into his walkie-talkie.

His words splashed out of him like a fountain and he could not control himself. Agent McMahon was finally able to calm him down and ordered him to repeat the nature of this emergency call.

"He's gone. The profiler. Rhodes is gone. I have no idea if he was taken of if he fled. He was just gone."

_I know I've got a face in me  
Points out all my mistakes to me  
You've got a face on the inside too and  
Your paranoia's probably worse  
I don't know what set me off first  
But I know what I can't stand  
Everybody acts like the fact of the matter is  
I can't add up to what you can but  
Everybody has a face that they hold inside  
A face that awakes when I close my eyes  
A face watches every time they lie  
A face that laughs every time they fall  
(And watches everything)  
So you know that when it's time to sink or swim  
That the face inside is watching you too  
Right inside your skin_

_The sun goes down  
I feel the light betray me_

* * *

**Thanks to my reviewers: **_Animal Luvr 4 Life, Tina _**and **_wrestlefan4_

**Loves ya!**

**Angel**

**xxx**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_**"Viewed scientifically, the death of a human being is of no more significance than that of any other animal on earth." - Ian Brady aka the Moors Murderer**_

_Cody stared outside the window and his eyes wandered along with the fading road. It was hot outside and soft country music tunes played from the radio. His cat laid curled up on the backseat and his father was whistling. Cody hated when his dad did that. _

_Because it only reminded him of what they were about to do. Not only the whistling but the small monotone sounds coming from the trunk. It was distanced but it was there. A damp pounding and neither the music nor the melody in his father's head could shut it out._

Chaos.

That was the only fitting word for the LA FBI headquarters. Dozens of agents, investigators and technicians were running through the corridors, turning the place into an ant farm.

They had just figured out that Cody had vanished under unexplained circumstances. Two possible scenarios were currently investigated and neither of them sounded good. Agent McMahon rubbed his eyes and gave Nattie Neidhart a tired look.

"What do you believe?"

She lifted her eyes and spoke with a rasping voice, "Fingerprints and DNA proved that the man we are holding in custody is _not_ Jeffrey Hardy but a tweaker named Paul Bentley. Bentley, who is currently fighting with his addiction, has already confessed that he was paid to pose as Hardy on various occasions."

"I don't know Agent McMahon but it sounds an awful lot like the handwriting of a highly intelligent criminal. I'm not sure if he wants to frame Cody or if they are working together but I doubt that Cody would have fled the scenery. I think Hardy found him and I believe they are together right now."

Agent Price paused for a second before she cleared her throat. "Officer Jericho mentioned that Cody had made a call and later received an email regarding the suspect's identity. We found that email and it contained a back-story that would provide a motive for all killings made. We checked out the computer system and I believe that either Jeffrey Hardy was a hacker himself or had help from one and erased everything that could be found about him and the incident that triggered his criminal nature."

"He did a good job," Agent McMahon said sarcastically.

"Yes, he did. He successfully fooled everyone around him, not just Cody."

* * *

_When they hold their tongues, they cry out._

It was a saying by Cicero and Cody had read the quote in high school. The words were burned inside his brain and reminded him of their faces. His father used to tell him that they had to be silenced. That they were too loud for this world. Cody always wondered at what level his dad would consider a woman as _loud_.

He could never figure it out because even if they sounded alike in some case files to Cody they were all completely different. The truth was once they had been tied up Cody started to wish them to be silent as well. His father always used his time and his hand was always trembling as if he did not really _want_ to kill them.

Cody had watched him closely and in his head, he started to create a lie that kept him going for all these years. No matter what they said, he knew that his father hadn't really _wanted_ to hurt them. That something was making him do all this. When he got older, he called it insanity and feared that he might inherit the same disease.

However, that fear wasn't as bad as believing that his father was actually aware of his actions. Cody never read the case file because he didn't want to find out a different kind of truth. He was thinking about the quote when he slowly awoke.

Cody was in pain but it wasn't solely a physical pain. He moaned and blinked when he regained conscious. His eyes flickered open and he squeezed them slightly to adjust them. Aware of his heavily pounding heart he let out a deep breath and lifted his head up.

His vision slowly came back and he let his eyes wander around the room. He was in a bedroom and he could make out that it was a house not a motel room. A small wooden bed in the centre, an old lamp, a nightstand, some wooden chairs and one old canapé filled it up making it seemingly tighter.

The entire room had an 'old' look to it. It seemed abandoned. Like a family had moved out or vanished in a hurry. The paint on the doorframe was already splitting and even though it was neatly cleaned it still had the distinct smell of aging to it. His eyes spotted the various smaller items like a framed photograph of some strangers, a porcelain doll dressed in a pink gallon posed on a shelf next to a few books.

The walls were cold and white. The window was closed and covered by some black jalousies. Cody shivered and noticed the cold. In the far distance, he could hear a noise that sounded like a train, but other than that all that surrounded this house was silence. The lack of traffic noise made him conclude that he had been brought somewhere outside of the city. Although considering how far stretched out the city was he couldn't be certain.

Cody flinched under the pounding pain on his head and instinctively moved his hand. He felt the dried blood and blinked again. Whatever had hit him on the head had been highly affective and he let out a small moan when he moved it. Carefully avoiding pressure on it he slowly adjusted his eyes to the haziness of the room.

Cody's hands weren't tied up and he was momentarily confused by it. For a brief moment, he didn't know if he should be offended that Jeff obviously didn't believe him to be a threat. However, he quickly realized that due the soreness of his body he wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight anyway.

Cody sat in the left corner and tried to move but his muscles wouldn't comply and he sunk back. His vision was cut from the right side of the room entirely. He only spotted the small velveteen robe laid out over the old canapé. He believed he had heard a voice or a sound of some sort but blamed his aching head for playing tricks on him.

As he sat there waiting anxiously for anything to happen he rewound the incident in his head. Cody couldn't explain what Jeff would even want with him. He highly doubted that the tattoo artist had found the values of the inner beauty and it didn't make any sense. He wasn't fitting the profile; him going missing would only put more spotlights on him.

Considering how much effort Jeff had put into planning and constructing everything, Cody doubted that the tattoo artist _wanted_ to be caught. It was an assumption that was always quickly made regarding serial cases but often enough it was a wrong one.

Cody knew that he was in trouble and that he might face charges in accessory to murder but he was also certain that nobody would actually believe him to be the killer. His mind was already in communication with the ghost again.

'_Why go to all this trouble just for me?'_

His eyes shifted when the doorknob was moved and every muscle inside him tensed. Cody half expected a more glorious entrance. Nevertheless as soon as he could make up the slender feature of his capturer his heartbeat increased. Jeff stepped into the room and Cody swallowed a fearful sound.

Jeff's dark shadow moved steadily over the white wallpaper as the light hit his body. Oddly reminded of a house of horror Halloween gag, Cody couldn't get rid of the words 'Trick or Treat' and instinctively pushed back into the corner. He felt like a child face to face with the boogeyman and couldn't believe that he hadn't noticed how green Jeff's eyes were.

Panic overwhelmed the young profiler. His body shivered with a wave of adrenaline rushing through his veins. A million thoughts washed over him and he couldn't hold on to a single one. Jeff smiled but his emotions could not be seen. He walked inside the room and kneeled in front of Cody.

The silence between them seemed like an unbearable scream and Cody noticed that his visibly fear was agitating Jeff. The smile grew wider and the tattoo artist licked his lips taking in the sight of the crotched up trembling body. There was not much that he enjoyed more than seeing such fear in someone's eyes.

Jeff didn't say anything because he adored the uncomfortable state that Cody was in far too much. The longer he stayed silent the more nervous the young profiler got. His eyes escaped his glare and shifted back. Cody was unconsciously playing with his hands. He tried very hard to keep images from Jeff's victims away.

Of course, Jeff saw something else in Cody's eyes. Even though he tried to hide it with every bit of strength he had it was undoubtedly there. The fear raving inside of his heart pushed his blood racing through his veins and Cody hated himself that it was arousing him as well. His blushing cheeks and the shyly lowered eyes gave away something that Jeff was hungrily soaking up.

Jeff's eyes were dark. Sparked only by the delight he felt in the presence of someone who was utterly scared of him. His body was looking like a stature though. In complete stillness, he waited for Cody to snap.

"What do you want from me?" Cody finally said because he could no longer bear the silence. His voice was shaking, which only increased Jeff's amusement.

Even though Jeff had a plan for Cody he also was not denying to himself that he was almost happy to see the profiler again. He wondered if they were strange soul mates because Cody seemed to be the complete opposite of him. Or, as he constructed in his maddened mind, a younger version of himself.

"I have my reasons."

"Are you going to kill me?" It was a stupid question in a messed up situation but Cody couldn't help it.

Jeff grunted and smirked. "You should know that you are not exactly my preference."

"Because I'm not a Fratboy?" Cody asked, his thoughts frantically bouncing around his mind.

"No. Because you're too weak. You're not really worth the effort."

As preposterous it might seem in that moment Cody was actually hurt. The arrogant honesty and the complete lack of respect were nagging at him. "Then why go through all that trouble?"

Cody wanted to slap himself because he couldn't push aside the thought that Chester looked oddly beautiful as he tilted his head back and laughed. It was obvious that this man was completely sure of himself. There was no doubt in those eyes. Nothing that would show some sort of fear of being caught.

_He feels safe here,_ Cody thought, storing the observation in the back of his head.

"Trouble? It was almost too easy. If I didn't know you so well I'd say it was a trap," Jeff hissed through his teeth. He brushed through his hair and sat down at the end of the bed.

"What makes you so sure you know me?" Cody asked.

With a devilish grin on his face Chester leaned towards the nightstand fishing two folders from the drawer. He shook them in order and opened the first one. "Alright let's see. Cody Garret Rhodes. Oh, hey I don't know your middle name," he replied cockily and shrugged. "I guess I didn't care."

It was his file and Cody felt sick. He could not find an explanation as to how Jeff had got a hold of it and it made him more vulnerable. Cody knew that some things written on these pages played right into Jeff's hand. He felt naked and exposed and his mind slowly started to pull back.

"Cody, I had no idea you were such a screw up. How on earth did you get a job with the FBI? Even though you showed almost no improvement in all those years?" Jeff said with a raised eyebrow.

"You know nothing," Cody snarled angrily, wondering what these files were giving away. It was the first time that he cursed himself that he never dared to look at them.

"Say, are you still wetting your bed?" Jeff's voice was deliberately mean. He enjoyed the profilers' wretched face knowing that Cody's greatest weakness was a confrontation with the truth. That revelation seemed almost hilarious to him considering that Cody worked in job that was based on facts.

Cody blushed and lowered his eyes.

"Oh, are you ashamed? Don't be; it's normal," Jeff mocked him; crossing his legs and studying the file further.

"They should make a sitcom out of you. I mean that 'Puzzle experiment' must have been hilarious. Well, not for you but for the people who were watching you. Did you know that you were observed by five specialists?"

A silent cry for him to stop went through Cody's head as he remembered that. They had figured out his need to get things in order and put him in a large room. The first few days he had been given some random tasks, mostly putting together some puzzles. One day they gave him a puzzle that couldn't be solved.

There were fifteen pieces missing and replaced with similar pieces. Yet, they didn't fit. It was something Cody couldn't comprehend. He sat down and put the pieces together and when he realized that it wasn't working he became angry. Then he angrily wiped the table clean, shouting furiously and smashing the pieces around. However, he couldn't stop himself from picking them up and starting all over.

There had to be a solution. In the end, he found one for himself. He put the puzzle together and all the wrong parts he placed on the other end of the table. He had them neatly round up but still out of his sight. Cody decided he could live with the holes in the construction as long as he wouldn't see the wrong parts.

He lied to himself by simply believing that it was the how the picture was supposed to look like. It was a picture of some sunflowers. Cody remembered how worked up he was after five hours inside that room and still remembered the yellow of those flowers. It wasn't a laughing matter for him.

"I assumed that I was being watched," Cody said trying to sound casual. As if he had already dealt with that in his past.

"I think you _knew_ that they were watching you. I wonder what you were most afraid of, though. Failing them or failing yourself."

"What about you? I read your file," Cody suddenly said, remembering the email.

Cody thought he saw a shadow clouding Jeff's eyes for a second but it was gone fast. _He definitely hesitated_; Cody thought, hoping he had found a way to get control of this conversation.

Jeff sighed and shrugged. "Are you feeling sorry for me now?"

"Do you think I should?"

"No. I don't feel sorry for you either." Jeff stated provocatively.

"Do you feel sorry for them?" Cody asked carefully, wondering if he would get an honest answer.

"I feel sorry for myself when they die. The human body is so fucking fragile." The words were spat out cold and emotionless. As if he was about to file a complaint against nature.

"You make them pretty. That says you care."

Jeff grinned at the attempt to sound professional and stood up. Slowly he moved closer and crouched down. His hand stroked over Cody's cheekbones and the profiler flinched under the touch. His reaction made Jeff smile brightly and he gave him a pitiful look. Cody felt Jeff's hand brushing through his hair as he continued humiliating him in a dark voice.

"You and your psychological reasons. I make them pretty because they _are_ pretty. You'd rather have me slice up their faces? Or slashing their throats maybe?"

Cody frowned and reluctantly turned his head away from Jeff's hands.

"What? You don't wanna talk about it?"

Jeff leaned closer and his lips grazed over his skin whilst he spoke with a low voice. "Are you feeling sorry for the old man's sins? Twenty-one, wow that's a lot. Did they beg you to help them?"

Cody felt like he was sucked into the past. He shuddered when he felt Jeff licking away his tears.

"You cry a lot don't you? Always crying for something you can't change. Such contriteness. Do you think you're damned, Cody? I think you might be, why else would you end up with me?" Jeff growled, exhilarated by Cody's rocking shoulders.

"You're right," Cody suddenly breezed, thinking that if he would just admit to everything it would stop. "I sometimes think I'm damned for what I've done."

Cody didn't even notice his mistake and was completely puzzled when Jeff smiled. "What _you've_ done? I thought it was all about your dad?"

"It was but I stood there and didn't help," Cody snarled defiantly.

"I think that is not the whole truth. Maybe you wanted them dead. Or maybe you found it all just really fascinating. I'm wondering about the first time, though. You were four years old. So how does a four year-old understand what is going on?"

"_Daddy?"_

_The boy didn't receive an answer. No reply, nothing. He covered his ears because the woman was screaming. Her voice sliced through his heart and he started crying. A sound made him open his eyes and he was hit by something warm. He was terrified when his eyes fall upon the woman. Her voice was no longer loud but sounded like a gargle. Her muscles were tensing under the rope as her body was fighting against death. _

Cody didn't reply. He sat there motionless and didn't even react when Jeff stripped him of his shirt. His eyes blankly staring into nothing and his head barely able to follow the dark voice.

"You lied about it, Cody," he whispered.

"I…didn't," Cody croaked but the words faded, meaningless.

"Yes you did. You told them your daddy only watched them die. Just stared at them, you said."

Cody had never read his father's file and didn't know that Edward Chilton had made a thorough confession. Jeff's voice was giving it away and Cody closed his eyes not wanting to hear about past crimes.

"He didn't just watch, did he?"

Jeff wrapped his hands around Cody's throat and slowly pushed his head back. His hot breath hit Cody's face and he started tensing under the pressure.

"It made him hot. Watching them soaked up in blood and dying made your daddy fucking hot. He confessed that he masturbated while watching them die. Where were you, Cody? You watched him, didn't you? And you cleaned it all up afterwards."

_I want to die,_ was the only thought in Cody's head. He never knew that they all knew about that. He always figured he could keep that a secret. From the moment he realized what his father was doing he tried to erase all traces of it. He couldn't bear the humiliation he caused his victims.

It almost seemed worse than the actual killing. It was wrong.

"Please," Cody whimpered in a choked voice and braced himself against Jeff.

The tattoo artist had his hand tight around his throat and played with the pressure. He was almost on Cody's lap and his hips moved with his words. He derived pleasure from Cody's sorrow and chuckled with delight. Jeff used his free hand to caress almost softly over Cody's chest.

"Is that why you attacked your psychiatrist? What was her name? Victoria. Because she found that out? Oh no, that was because you had developed a sexually deviant behaviour. What did you see when you jerked off, Cody?"

Mike sobbed and tried to push him away but Jeff's grip was hard and merciless. The tattoo artist pushed closer against him. His cold fingers tugged into his flesh and his lips almost touched Cody's neck.

"Damn you fucking attacked her and almost broke her back. You were on a rampage. Maybe you wanted your fantasies come true? Tell me, did you want to slash her throat?"

"No. I didn't mean to," his ability to see through situation had left him and he was openly giving in to his desperation. It should be him, the FBI agent who would do that to Jeff and yet he was the one on the ground.

"I don't believe you, Cody," Jeff breezed out. "I think you hated her. I think you hate a lot of women, don't you?"

"No, I don't," Cody snarled defiantly.

"Yes, you do. You dream about the blood and their faces every night. Do they talk to you? You can't make amends with the demons of the past, can you? It makes you hard to fantasize about them because in the end you're just a sick as your daddy."

Even though Cody knew that he shouldn't take the words seriously he couldn't help it. For so many years, he had been ashamed for his thoughts. Listening to them put him further and further down his own personal hell. Thick tears dropped from his eyes, some of them caught in his eyelashes.

He wanted to scream or cry out loud but couldn't provide the sounds for his despair. Instead, he only swallowed hard.

For Jeff, it was what he was waiting for. He loved Cody's guilt because it was making him completely defenceless and with a vast move he pulled him closer, crashing his lips against Cody's. It only increased his prurience when Cody resisted. It was even saddening him when that resistance slowly broke down.

Cody was in such a wretched state of mind that he couldn't think straight. In the far distance of his mind, he could hear a voice trying to prevent him from his own self. He was oblivious to it and gave in. With no will of his own he was pulled around and pushed down again.

There was no plausible explanation in his head except that he somehow gave up. Cody didn't care what was done to him. Cold fingers rapidly moving over his body clawing deep into his flesh yet he couldn't even really feel the pain. It wouldn't matter anyway because his mind provided him with an almost soothing thought. He finally had become the victim.

A voice was constantly talking to him. Every carefully chosen insult Jeff made towards him felt like a scourge clashing onto his skin. Cody wanted to bleed so badly that he bit his lips himself. Somehow, he was bent over the bed. He was panting and breathing erratically whilst he wallowed in his pain. Cody was hoping for excruciating and blinding pain. He prayed for his death silently twisting under the pressure his body was under.

As he had once written in his profile the act seemed to make Jeff change his character. From a cold and almost emotionless character, he transformed into a raving sadist and moaned lustfully with every yelp of pain escaping from Cody's lips.

Cody's blood froze when he lifted his eyes, now having a clear sight of the spot behind the couch. Everything around him shifted and images from his past came crashing back in from of a bad remake. Instinctively he started to defend himself. His eyes widened in terror as they gazed over the bleeding body of a young man. The victim had his hands tied to his feet which gave him the grotesque form of a newborn infant.

Cody started choking and kicking back which angered his attacker. Jeff turned him around on his back and screamed at him. He hit him hard and Cody's eyes flickered close. Instantly he opened them up again and tried to push him away.

Chester was stronger, faster and so overcome by a maddening desire that he didn't gave Cody a chance. He punched his fist into Cody's face and the profiler was almost knocked out. His jaw vibrated after the blow and his mouth filled with blood.

Air was sucked out of his lungs when he felt another heavy pain smashing against his chest. His head tilted back. His mind drifted somewhere between the harsh light of reality and the blissful silence of unconsciousness. When Jeff started to rape him his thoughts were ripped apart in total chaos.

He cried and sobbed yet was aware that he was about to climax. With a yelp of pain, he turned his head and stared at Jeff. He watched the tattoos coming to life like a childhood monster. The slender body was covered in sweat and shimmered in the fading light. Jeff seemed taller, stronger and was having so much power over him that Cody could do nothing but cry under the forceful violation.

There was an innocent human dying in the corner and there was this terrifying monster thrusting in and out of him. Cody felt sucked into his worst nightmare because a part of him wanted to scream out something lewd. Everything about this was wrong and sick and yet he was aware that he pushed up his own hips.

Jeff wasn't looking at him. His lips were half open and he panted salaciously whilst his eyes were fixed on the boy behind the couch. The boy's eyes were open and directed at the horrible scenery but only stared blankly. Traces of blood covered his body and his breathing had become slow.

The boy was in shock and he was dying and exactly that made Jeff only jerked in more intensely. The irony of it was even amusing him and he took his gaze shortly away from his victim and steered it to Cody, only to realize that he really didn't need the sight of the young profiler struggling with his messed up life and turned to someone he really cared about.

Cody was sure that he would die. He was certain that Jeff would eventually get rid of him and he didn't know if he should laugh or cry over the irony that he was about to be killed by a serial killer. He hated himself when he orgasmed. Hated Jeff even more when the older man grinned.

Cody wasn't sure when he had passed out but somehow everything was suddenly dark.

When he awoke, he realized he was cleaned. Jeff must have done it. Weakly he forced his eyes open and was startled by Jeff's sight. The older man sat next to him and smiled.

"Finally awake. I almost forgot that I have a surprise for you," his voice sounded almost caring, almost soft yet his eyes sparkled mischievously.

Cody moaned when he lifted himself up and noticed that he had been brought into another room. It was a child's room. With colourful wallpapers that showed a duck family, and toys placed neatly in there supposed spots. It couldn't be Jeff's room because Cody knew that tattoo artist wasn't from around here but he spared himself hearing something disturbing and didn't ask.

He didn't ask about the victim either because he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer. His chest tightened whilst he watched the older man waving his arms in an explanatively gesture.

"You see I have a bit of a problem. As you might know, this line of work is pretty stressful and despite what you think I really don't want to get caught. I need a distraction and I'm very happy to inform you that you will be that distraction."

"They know I didn't kill them," Cody said ignoring the soreness of his body.

"I know. Besides, I really don't want to give up the credit for that anyway. But…everybody knows your profile, Cody and I'm afraid it screams serial," he replied with a triumphant grin on his face.

Cody could do nothing but stare at him in puzzlement.

Jeff sounded like someone eager to fill him in with some secret plan. Cody swallowed because he could almost see someone else. A young boy with a whole lot of dreams. Since these dreams had been shattered a long time ago all what's left was coldness. Jeff had long lost all feelings of remorse.

"See I figured that young beautiful boys are not exactly your pair of shoes. Oh, no you have already seen twenty-one women die. And because those bitches died your life has sucked majorly isn't that right? After all they made your daddy crazy, didn't they?"

"Fuck you," Cody hissed, not willing to be sucked into this again.

Jeff raised an eyebrow in amusement and went on chatting like they were old friends. "We already covered that subject. It is obvious and in your profession as a profiler you surely agree with me on this that you have a ton of issues with women. They seem to intimidate you."

The hysterical laughter echoed through the room and Mike felt his skin burning with shame.

"You're scared of some whores, Cody. I think that's even kinda sweet. Naturally I found the perfect first victim for you."

"What?"

Cody's head started to spin as he tried to put those words in context. He watched Jeff as he moved up and opened the door. Cody needed time to comprehend what the older man was doing. One tattooed arm reached outside and started to pull something in. Someone. Cody frowned.

"I presume you know Beth?"

Time seemed to have stopped and Cody tried desperately to prevent madness sinking into his brain. His words were followed by short breaths and spat out incoherently.

"Don't hurt her. Please, don't kill her."

Jeff faked a dumbfounded look before he started laughing again. His fingers were clawed into Beth Phoenix's long hair and he ripped on it whilst he said, "What? Jesus, Cody I ain't killing that bitch. _You_ are."

* * *

**Thanks to my reviewers:** _Tina, Animal Luvr 4 Life, wrestlefan4_ **and** _Dark Kaneanite_

**Loves ya!**

**Angel  
****xxx**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_**"I don't feel guilty for anything. I feel sorry for people who feel guilt." - Ted Bundy**_

FBI Headquarters Los Angeles

"Mr. Moore, you are Jeffrey Hardy's boss?" Agent McMahon asked carefully.

"Yep, Jeff works for me. Why what's he in trouble for?" Shannon Moore asked back.

"Currently he is a suspect in an investigation. I was wondering if you could tell me if Mr. Hardy owns any properties in the Los Angeles area."

The owner of the tattoo shop eyed him suspiciously unsure whether or not he was in trouble as well. Jeff was good at his work but he really didn't want to get in trouble for what he'd done.

"I think he owns an old house in Calabasas. He bought it when he arrived in the city but I don't think lives there."

Half an hour later, a special unit was having a briefing and all departments involved. The current situation was presented that Jeffrey Hardy could possibly be the Fratboy killer and that an officer was in jeopardy.

There was also a high possibility that missing CNN report Beth Phoenix might be involved as well. Her assistant Ken Anderson had reported her missing and claimed that he had received a call from Agent Rhodes.

At eight am this morning, Dr. Victoria Varon had arrived at the headquarters because she had discovered that someone unknown had hacked into her personal computer files. She had raised concern that with the information of these files the suspect was holding a very powerful instrument against the Agent.

Agent McMahon decided to clear his mind from everything. Whatever had happened to the young profiler he would not judge without getting all the facts. All he knew was that Mike needed help.

* * *

_This isn't happening_, Cody thought frantically. He refused to believe the reality around him and shook his head, which gave him a somewhat childish look. It had been bad enough that he'd given into to Jeff so easily in front of the victim but this was way too much for Cody to comprehend.

Beth had her eyes fixed on him with the same pleading reflection out of them as so many women he'd seen before. Her long brown hair was no longer styled but fell lose over her trembling shoulders. She had a nasty bruise over her left eyebrow. Her cheeks were wet from her tears and Cody could see that she had trouble breathing through the duct tape.

Jeff had stripped her successfully of her confidence and her cocky attitude. She no longer looked like a career women with an agenda but like a lost little girl. Cody could see her panic and he swallowed hard. His mind started slowly to soak up all the details to this horrible picture and he searched his mind for ways to help her.

Yet he couldn't come up with anything. Jeff had his hand still tightened up in her hair and her chest moved heavily up and down when he crotched down and stroke over her face, whispering hoarsely.

"Look at her Cody, isn't she beautiful? Little Bethie has lost her ambition."

Her shoulders rocked back and forth with the waves of tears rushing over her and Cody didn't even know what to say. He felt catapulted back to his childhood and a part of him wondered how to clean up the mess. Because that's what he was used to. Angrily he shook his head again and cleared his throat:

"Are you insane?"

Jeff seemed startled for a moment before he started laughing. "I thought you already knew the answer to that."

"I'm _not_ killing her," Cody reasoned with a shaking voice.

The tattoo artist gave him a weird smirk before he growled, "Oh, why not? She's perfect and absolutely your taste."

He circled her in weird, almost dancing movements before he lifted her up by her hair. Beth let out a yelp of pain when she was dragged towards the bed.

"Don't be so hasty with your decision, Cody. Let's look at it rationally," Jeff said in a causal voice, pushing her onto the bed.

Cody almost jumped away and held his hands up as if he was afraid to even touch her.

"Stop that. Please, I won't do this. You can't make me."

Amused, Jeff raised an eyebrow and tilted his head to the side. "Of course I can make you because you've already got it in you."

He sat on the bed with his hand still in her hair. It was obvious he enjoyed his power over her. For Jeff, this was just a nice little distraction from his real agenda. Like playing with some new toys and for as long as he could remember he'd always liked interesting toys to play with.

"You don't even know me," Cody snarled defiantly, trying to move away from both of them.

"Do we really have to do this again? Can't you just accept that I do know you very well? It's all in your file. Your life is an open folder. It wasn't even hard to get access to. It's like the whole world can just take a peak inside your head. You _hate_ her, Cody."

Cody couldn't shake off the nagging feeling of being in a psychiatric session. Jeff was testing him, Jeff _knew_ more about him than himself and he couldn't fight that. He was never able to. He could play games to a certain degree and avoid some things but in the end, he always lost.

"I don't hate her," he tried again.

Jeff gave him a compassionate look. "Yes, you do. Let's make this a puzzle."

Cody narrowed his eyes and tried desperately not to meet Beth's gaze.

"I'm not playing games with you."

"Shhh, shut up and follow me with this," Jeff replied with a madden glow in his eyes. "So, you hate women. Well, maybe not all but certainly attractive, successful, confident women with blonde hair."

Beth winced when he tightened his grip on her hair. Jeff's voice was suddenly filled with anger as he screamed at her. "Shut up I'm giving you a compliment."

Her fear and her pain was hurting Cody and he shifted nervously, aware of the heat of her shivering body. He was torn between her sorrow and Jeff's low and dark voice that, as much as he hated to admit, was starting to make sense.

"You hate them because you are scared of them. Well, not all of them but of the twenty-one broads daddy's had killed in the past. They are haunting you in your dreams. They are making you shit your pants and yet they are also making you fucking hot."

"Shut up, shut the fuck up," Cody hissed, now reminded of his guilt. He lowered his eyes and his face burned with shame.

"No, I'm not shutting up, Cody, because this is too much fun. You're like an empty glass; everyone can see through you. They all know you jerk off by fantasizing about the victims of your father."

Furiously Cody turned his hand and almost attacked Jeff. "Shut up! I don't do that. Stop this fucking bullshit. What do you want? This doesn't make any sense. You should be with your fucking fratboy, which by the way makes me wonder why Fratboys? Oh, that's right because of your _brother_!"

His voice was like a knife cutting through the atmosphere. The air got thicker and Cody felt his heartbeat increasing. A dark shadow washed over Jeff's cocky smirk erasing every trace of it. Beth let out a muffled sound when she was pushed hard against Cody.

"Wrong move, Cody," Jeff hissed through his teeth and moved up.

Cody almost tenderly held Beth in his arms as his eyes followed the slender body features moving slowly around the bed. His head filled with a voice that forced all of his insecurities out to surface.

"I chose my own destiny, Cody. You are just a pathetic little boy who shits his pants every time a pretty girl shows up. I'm telling you all those chicks in your life have fucked you up for good. That Agent…what's her name, Neidhart?"

Cody's anger faded and dissolved into despair. He suppressed the urge to cover his ears and shut his eyes like a child. See no evil. Hear no evil. Yet he still had them open, too afraid to see them all. Because, aside from the obvious fact that Jeff was completely insane and a sadistic killer, he was also right.

"Natalya Neidhart. That was it. Did you ever read what she had to say about you? She pitied you. You and your fucking cat. You were ten years-old and she _interrogated_ you. I bet you wanted to scream at her to leave you alone. Because you _knew_ it was wrong. You had always known."

Beth made a shrieking sound but couldn't make herself known. Every word that she had listened to in the last few minutes was making it utterly clear that either way she wouldn't survive this mind-duel. Her only hope of survival was Cody. Yet she was losing him further and further. She could tell because Cody's fingers started digging into her skin.

"Oh, and then there was Victoria. Your _Vicky_. What did she say to make you so angry? What triggered you attacking her?"

Jeff paused and stopped behind Cody. The younger man could feel hot breath grazing his neck when he said, "Right, it was in your file."

Cody tensed and closed his eyes as he remembered. He started sobbing with the sound of Jeff's triumph over his soul.

"Mom. She wrote in her file that she believed you were lying. Granted you were only four when your daddy reported her missing but Vicky believed that mommy was the one who screwed you up."

"I…don't remember her," Cody croaked with a broken voice.

"You are nothing, Cody. Nothing than a guilt driven shell. Look at her. She is exactly like all of them. For them you are just a suspect, an experience, a fucking story! You had searched online for urban legends about me while all this time you are nothing more than an urban legend yourself. The boy who travelled with his serial lunatic of dad, slashing women's throats."

His arms wrapped around Cody's chest and the younger man completely froze.

"All you ever wanted was to be normal," he made a snarling noise and added, "That is such a fucking lie. All you ever wanted was to do to them exactly what your daddy did. Shut them up!"

"You think little Bethie here is any different? She even went to your dad. Probably posed around before him. Don't you think that's kinda cruel?" Jeff continued.

"Stop…it," Cody hissed through his teeth and tried to move but Jeff wouldn't allow it and had his hand pressed against the younger man's neck.

"She never cared about your feelings. She just wanted to do a remake on an old story all the while you were trying to save some innocent boys. Did you know that she had made an appointment with Victoria?"

With those last words, Jeff ripped the duct tape away from her mouth and a loud female scream filled up the room.

_What?_

_Kate? Sam?_

_Janette…Amy…Lucy…victims. Innocent victims._

Cody shook his head and blinked. He hadn't even been aware that he had hit Beth. His hand was shaking and a small drop of blood had transferred onto the skin. The reporter's head had tilted back and she fell onto her back, wincing over her bended arms. Somewhere in the distance of his mind, he could still hear the echo of his own words bouncing back and forth.

_Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!_

His eyes widened in terror of himself. He wanted to push back but felt Jeff's strong arms wrapping around his chest from behind. The older man slowly pushed him towards Beth and Cody was feeling his sanity slipping away. He felt like reeling and Jeff's voice were the waves crashing into the shore.

"You're on top of her now. She can't do anything. Look at her for fuck's sake."

Cody complied and opened his eyes lowering them onto the helpless woman beneath him. It was wrong and a few tears dropped from his eyelashes against her skin. Her voice so much quieter than the loud dominant one of Jeff's, her pleas just fading whimpers. A small strain of blood trailed down her nose.

"Michael, please," she whispered. "Don't listen to him. You're an FBI Agent. You can't do this. I'm sorry for everything you think I've done to you," her voice was panicking as she tried to move away from him.

Jeff rolled his eyes and almost yawned. "Are you really falling for that psycho babbling again? Let me ask you something…how did it feel the first time you jerked off to the sound of their screams?"

To Cody's defence he really tried. He was now sitting on top of her and really tried to push back but Jeff had him so tight in his grip that it was impossible. He tried to see the situation as it was. A sick game. A horrible crime but couldn't stop himself from leaning his head back against Jeff's shoulder.

As if beamed into his fantasy he was getting hard and hated himself more than ever. The hatred over his erection transformed into a furious anger towards Beth. He felt so ashamed and he sobbed when he felt Jeff carefully opening his pants.

"I don't care if you won't fuck her or even kill her but when I'm leaving she will be covered with your DNA. Simple as that so why not lean back and enjoy it? Why would she of all be worth your compassion?"

"No, please…I don't…want…" Cody breezed out helplessly against Jeff's slow masturbation of his penis. _This was worse,_ he thought. Because he couldn't feel the safety button. He knew he wouldn't wake up. Beth Phoenix was lying tied up, beaten up beneath him while a serial killer was jerking him off.

If it hadn't been such a nightmare, he would have laughed. Why did he have to run into Jeff? Because of her. Without her Jeff wouldn't even know his name. She had shown him the footage of the day his father was sentenced to death. It was all her. Beth had met with Vicky and probably knew all about him.

_But no. Vicky wouldn't tell her. She would never to that._

And she had seen his dad. Met up with his father. Why was he never allowed to see his dad? Ah, sure because of some chicks recommendation.

_Without them you would be in jail. In jail. She is innocent._

She's a reporter.

_She's a human being. _

Cody's mind fell apart piece by piece and he didn't even notice that he had climaxed. He only became aware of that when he was suddenly feeling breathless. The reality slowly came back into his head and he gathered all his strength to say.

"Fuck you. You're right. It might have turned me on to dream about them but I _never_ wanted to kill them."

He pushed back roughly and shook Jeff's arms off. "They never did anything to me. I'm not angry with them I feel sorry for them. That might be pathetic but it's not the same as it is for you. It's not their fault that I am who I am. But it is your brother's fault that you are what you are."

Cody suddenly was deprived from air when Jeff had his hand around his neck.

"You really think we are that different? You don't get it, Cody. I'm not saying all that shit to play a game with you. I just want you to slash her throat so the newspapers will only focus on you. You think you can fuck me with your psycho games? I'm the master in that. I didn't break down and try to kill my psychiatrists because they were all too weak."

"You think my brother is my weak spot? Trust me he's not. You are. I should have never wasted my time with you. You were born a victim, Cody. I was _made_ a killer."

Cody was not prepared and neither was Beth. He felt Jeff grabbing his arm and lifting it. He tried to resist but he forced his palm to open and felt something cold and metal pressed to it. It all went so fast that he couldn't even react and his arm was smashed down.

Something warm hit his face and he was sucked back to his worst nightmare. In the back of his head he wished desperately to wake up and opened his eyes. Beth's body was twisting and he heard a distinct gargling sound. His eyes fixed on her and he reacted by pure instinct.

He almost fell forward pressing his palm against the cut around her neck. Her eyes frantically locked with his he cried out, "No. I didn't want that. No, please, no."

Jeff tutted and shook his head. "You know why you always feel so guilty? Because you make this all about you."

However, the tattoo artist's face changed suddenly and he narrowed his eyes as the room was filled up with red and blue lighting.

"How the fuck?"

It was the first time that something went wrong with the plan. Jeff had missed the piece of the puzzle. Something that gave away this place. Cody was not even recognizing it. He wasn't listening that Jeff growled something angrily and turned around and ran outside.

He wasn't caring either. All he cared about was Beth. His mind racing with apologies as he pressed his hand against her throat to prevent the artery from pumping out blood. Nothing had him prepared for this. He cursed himself for working for the FBI, for getting so involved in this and for his inability to see through Jeff.

All that was left now was to pray that they would hurry. Because if Beth would die Cody knew he would have nothing in his defence. Jeff had worn gloves the entire time and Cody realized that nobody would believe him. His fingerprints were on the weapon, he was sitting on top of the victim with his hands soaked in her blood and it was his sperm all over her skin.

Nevertheless, oddly enough, it didn't even seem to matter that much because all Cody wanted was to save her. He had never been able to save any of them and he was not about to add one more victim to his nightmare guest list.

"Please, don't you die. Stay with me, Beth." He hissed and it sounded a whole lot stronger than before.

They might diagnose him with sexually deviant behaviour but not with murder. He couldn't be a murderer and he just realized that. Because he couldn't be like his dad. It was impossible. He did feel sorry for every single one of them and he cried for them as well.

Afterwards his dad would wipe away his tears and took him some place to eat. Something Cody would chose and he would even talk to his son. The world seemed so much more peacefully after something so bad has happened. He still would do it differently would he get a second chance.

"Don't you fucking die! Please! Don't die!"

Finally, the door was kicked in. Loud voices crashing through him.

"Put your hands up in the air and move away from the girl," A loud voice screamed and in the back of his head Cody noticed it was Agent McMahon.

"I can't," he said loudly.

"Agent Rhodes move away from the victim with your hands up in the air," the voice repeated with more pressure.

Cody sobbed now desperately: "I can't. Please, she's going to die if I let go…"

His voice sounded sincere and McMahon approached the grotesque picture in front of him. When they stormed the house he had not expected to be seeing Cody on top of the missing reporter with his hands soaked in blood and his pants half open.

Twenty years in the job could not have prepared him enough for this yet they prevented him from judging too hastily.

He glanced at the odd couple and noticed her chest moving. Cody was right she was still alive.

"Get me a medic in here right now!" he yelled into his walkie-talkie and stared at Cody.

"Don't die, please don't die," the young profiler whispered and repeated his words over and over again.


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry for the loooong quote at the start, I just couldn't help myself.**

**Chapter 10**

_**Les Timides et la Timidité. Paris 1901. **_

_**Especially self-revealing are the outbreaks of anger against oneself, the more so because I believe them always to be evidence of consciousness of guilt. At least, I have never yet seen an innocent man fall into a paroxysm of rage against himself, nor have I ever heard that others have observed it, and I would not be able psychologically to explain such a thing should it happen. Inasmuch as scenes of this kind can occur perceivably only in the most externalized forms of anger, so such an explosion is elementary and cannot possibly be confused with another. If a man wrings his hands until they bleed, or digs his fingernails into his forehead, nobody will say that this is anger against himself; it is only an attempt to do something to release stored-up energy, to bring it to bear against somebody. People are visibly angry against themselves only when they do such things to themselves as they might do to other people; for example, beating, smashing, pulling the hair, etc. This is particularly frequent among Orientals who are more emotional than Europeans. So I saw a Gypsy run his head against a wall, and a Jew throw himself on his knees, extend his arms and box his ears with both hands so forcibly that the next day his cheeks were swollen. But other races, if only they are passionate enough, behave in a similar manner. I saw a woman, for example, tear whole handfuls of hair from her head, a murdering thief, guilty of more or fewer crimes, smash his head on the corner of a window, and a seventeen year old murderer throw himself into a ditch in the street, beat his head fiercely on the earth, and yell, "Hang me! Pull my head off!" **_

_**The events in all these cases were significantly similar: the crime was so skilfully committed as conceivably to prevent the discovery of the criminal; the criminal denied the deed with the most glaring impudence and fought with all his power against conviction--in the moment, however, he realized that all was lost, he exerted his boundless rage against himself, who had been unable to oppose any obstacle to conviction and who had not been cautious and sly enough in the commission of the crime. Hence the development of the fearful self-punishment, which could have no meaning if the victim felt innocent. **_

_**Such expressions of anger against oneself often finish with fainting. The reason for the latter is much less exhaustion through paroxysms of rage than the recognition and consciousness of one's own helplessness. Reichenbach (1) once examined the reason for the fainting of people in difficult situations. It is nowadays explained as the effect of the excretion of carbonic acid gas and of the generated anthropotoxin; another explanation makes it a nervous phenomenon in which the mere recognition that release is impossible causes fainting, the loss of consciousness. For our needs either account of this phenomenon will do equally. It is indifferent whether a man notices that he cannot voluntarily change his condition in a physical sense, or whether he notices that the evidence is so convincing that he can not dodge it. The point is that if for one reason or another he finds himself physically or legally in a bad hole, he faints, just as people in novels or on the stage faint when there is no other solution of the dramatic situation. **_

_**(1) K. von Reichenbach: Der sensitive Mensch (The sensitive human). Cotta 1854.**_

_**When anger does not lead to rage against oneself, the next lower stage is laughter.1 With regard to this point, Darwin calls attention to the fact that laughter often conceals other mental conditions than those it essentially stands for--anger, rage, pain, perplexity, modesty and shame; when it conceals anger it is anger against oneself, a form of scorn. This same wooden, dry laughter is significant, and when it arises from the perception that the accused no longer sees his way out, it is not easily to be confused with another form of laughter. One gets the impression that the laugher is trying to tell himself, "That is what you get for being bad and foolish!" – World wide school Criminal Psychology **_

"Cody?" Agent McMahon said trying to reach the profiler. It had taken the medic quite some time to make Cody understand that he could let go.

Reluctantly he had moved his hands away from Beth and almost like in slow motion he sunk back to the ground. He felt he was being sucked into a black hole with no chance to ever reach the surface. The voices and the lights brought memories up in such a vivid way that his mind simply shut down.

Agent McMahon tried again to reach him by saying his name but Cody was not even blinking, as if his eyes were glued to the spot where the medics were trying to save Beth Phoenix's life. He was not aware he was sweating and shaking and he only reacted when he felt them bending his arms.

For a brief moment, he had lifted his eyes and stared at McMahon with a confused look. There was not the slightest bit of understanding in his eyes. He wanted to say something, form the words for his innocence but nothing happened. As he watched the medics carrying Beth out of his sight, he felt something heavy lying on his shoulders.

All sounds were dampened and it seemed like someone had shut out the lights. She would die and if she would die Cody would die as well. He breathed out sharply when they started pushing him outside aware that he had nothing in his defence. Slowly he walked down the wooden stairs and his eyes gazed around.

Cody was not even aware that they still held him at gunpoint, when he suddenly stopped. He froze in his movements.

"This is the primary crime scene," Cody spoke with a very low and somewhat strange voice.

Instead of elaborating that theory Cody lost the strain and turned his head around. As if he had forgotten the thought he followed them outside. McMahon felt cold whilst he witnessed the behaviour. He didn't need a psychiatrist to point out that Cody was traumatized.

Ironically enough, Cody didn't even notice that. As the car steadily ran down the freeway, he felt a sudden clarity. He carefully put the pieces to the puzzle together. Something told him that Victoria would be there. Whatever happened she would be there.

_She'd better be_, he thought, feeling sickened by the movement of the car.

All his life Cody had dealt with guilt but this time it was hitting him so much harder than before. There was no one to blame than him. He had trusted the wrong man. No, that wasn't even the truth. Could he really be so sure about that? Hadn't he made his profile rather quickly because he felt attracted to him?

Shouldn't the first encounter have told him otherwise? Was it really not him who attempted to kill her? Oh god, he thought, feeling like the fox in a foxhunt. They could laugh and make it a sport, be all fair and he would still lose. Evidence. There would be evidence.

Not even he should doubt the evidence.

_Who am I kidding_, he thought grinding his teeth. In between anger, frustration, fear and despair Cody switched so fast that his heartbeat increased and his temperature rose up.

When they walked him through the floors of the place Cody used to work he was kicked back into the past. All eyes were on him. Cody wanted to laugh in their faces because they could never make up their minds. In his eyes it looked like one eye felt pity and one wanted him dead.

Cody tried to calm himself down. He realized what was happening to him. He knew if he would stand any chance he should be brave and calm enough to tell the whole story. Yet, the thought alone was depriving him from making any sound. Maybe he should wait and hear what they _think_ they know?

He winced when his head started to ache heavily. Too many thoughts too many ideas were making it impossible to think. The light in the interrogation room seemed to burn itself in his eyes and he lowered himself with trembling knees into a seat.

Cody tried to look normal, professional and ready for them and failed so bravely that McMahon seriously doubted a criminal nature. They had un-cuffed him and now he was desperately trying to wipe the blood from his hands. Nothing he would do would erase the traces anyway and Cody should know that. Yet he still tried.

He behaved like a child trying to wipe away the traces of the forbidden chocolate. Impossible. Cody flinched when a CSI stepped into the room with an officer and started to process him.

They took a DNA sample with a swab and exchanged his clothing against a gray overall. They took samples from the blood on his hands and from his face. They gave him some water and a towel later but even that would not really rid him of evidence.

Everything about him screamed guilty and yet none of the agents could really believe it. It may have been in Cody's favour that the people outside cared. However, the test results that arrived about an hour later were definitely not. Victoria Varon tried to reason with Special Agent Shawn Michaels about the planned interrogation.

She knew that they would get nothing when he would be pushed.

"If you go in and expect him to answer truthfully you have to give him some time. He hasn't figured this out yet," she urged him.

"That is exactly what I'm trying to prevent. You know, I'm not blind. I know he looks like a beaten puppy or worse like an abused child but he isn't. Not this time. He can't explain the evidence with a heartbreaking story. If Beth Phoenix dies he _will_ be convicted for her murder," Michaels said in a stern voice.

"But he was influenced by a killer. He had been held hostage…"

"You don't know that. From what we know he could have been there voluntarily. I know what you trying to say but you've read Hardy's file. They both spent years in psychiatric care and have almost identical psychological files. Can you really say that there wasn't a romantic involvement of some sort?"

Victoria rubbed her eyes tiredly before she admitted, "No. I can't. I have no idea what went on between them. But I believe I know Cody. I won't deny that he has made a mistake and but I highly doubt it was murder. At least let me try to talk to him first."

"I don't think it's a good idea," Agent McMahon suddenly said quietly."I think it's time to stop treating him like a little boy."

"As long as we don't have the suspect in custody…" Victoria tried again and was harshly interrupted by McMahon again.

"You are placing your hopes into the hands of a serial killer? No, he has to face consequences and he has to face them now. I don't believe he's a bad kid but if that reporter dies no jury will care about my or your opinions, and most certainly not about the opinion of his gay, serial-killer boyfriend!"

They all stood there in silence before Agent Michaels took a deep breath and entered the room.

"Hello Cody," he said in a friendly voice, opening the button of his blazer and sitting down.

Every sense in Cody's body instantly went on red alert. He sunk deeper into the chair and eyed the Agent suspiciously. He hadn't expected him and only vaguely recalled that he had seen him before. Absent-mindedly he started scratching his wrists.

"I don't know if you remember me. My name is Shawn Michaels and I have to ask you some questions."

Cody felt he was being treated like a stupid kid and braced himself. He wanted to reply something but simply stared blankly at him.

Carefully the Agent placed three paper sheets in front of Cody and said casually, "You surely know what those are."

Cody lowered his eyes only for a second before he lifted them again and they shifted away. Of course, he knew; he was an Agent too. Test results. DNA, Blood, presence of semen. He felt sick.

"We have your fingerprints on the knife and we successfully matched that knife as the attacking weapon used on Beth Phoenix. The blood patter on your shirt matches her DNA. There were traces of your DNA all over her body. Including traces of semen. You do know what that means?"

Cody wanted him to stop. He couldn't stop thinking that it was stupid telling him that because he already knew. He pressed his lips tight together and wasn't even aware that a small angry tear dropped from his eye. Cody scratched his head in a confused gesture and said nothing.

"Cody, please, you've got to help me out here. What happened? I'm willing to listen to your side of the story," Agent Michaels said in a very low voice trying to gain his trust.

The profiler did not buy that, shook his head, and whispered, "I'm not a killer."

"Nobody said you are. We just want to know what happened."

Cody couldn't control that his body was shivering and he started playing with his hands because otherwise he wouldn't be able to control them. His eyes tried to avoid meeting the direct view of the agent and he forced himself to say, "Please, believe me."

"I really _want_ to but you have to help me understand. How did you end up in that position?"

Frantically Cody shook his head again and ripped on his hair, snarling angrily: "Stop that. Get out of my head. Please, get all out of my head."

Cody's blood pressure reached a dangerous level and his vision became blurry. He believed his heart had stopped when he saw them. He knew only he could see them and he flinched earning a concerned look from the Agent.

"Everything alright?"

_No, nothing, I'm just losing my mind_, Cody thought forcing himself to ignore the horrible memories. Women with slashed throats all crawling back. Slowly walking towards him like in a horror movie.

_I'm losing it, I'm losing it_ he thought and suddenly said out loud, "I'm sorry."

"I believe you are but that doesn't help me understand what exactly went on down there."

"I can't tell you," Cody replied rather dryly, trying not to let the Agent know that he was terrified by his visions.

"Why not?"

"Because…because…I don't want to," the profiler croaked and his shoulders started to tremble.

"Did Jeff force you into anything you didn't want?"

Agent Michaels was startled when Cody slapped himself. He watched the younger man sinking back into his defensive state afterwards. He didn't need to have his textbook to see that this was a clear sign of guilt. Yet, he wasn't sure for what and therefore carefully went on with his questions.

Cody reacted with a textbook schizophrenia and Agent Michaels could not decide whether he believed him. As far as he was concerned, Cody had lived in psychiatric care for such a long time that he could very well be able to fake certain disorders.

The profiler went from angry to hysterically repeating that he wasn't a killer. It simply wasn't clear if it was a natural defence or if he believed he would get away with it. Drew Wheeler had seen many strange things in his career and he wasn't willing to make a judgment yet. Not before he talked to Jeffrey Hardy.

He wanted to know how much influence that man might have had on Cody. Nevertheless, Hardy wasn't in their custody yet. Michaels didn't let Cody off the hook. He kept ignoring all emotional outbursts and repeated his questions in a slow voice.

However, as persistent as the Agent was, so was Cody. He wasn't giving in. He couldn't talk about what happened. Not with this guy anyway. He was also struggling against hallucinations of his father's victims, intense body heat and losing his mind. It was straining and weakened him with every passing minute.

While Cody's mind worked a chess game and he tried to keep all figures alive and together Agent Michaels fed him with possibilities. Maybe they would believe him? However, he wasn't even sure anymore what they really wanted to know.

_Check_, he thought unsure if that was an appropriate thought.

However when the door slide open he felt like Michaels had just said 'check-mate' and he swallowed hard when he looked at Victoria.

Instantly he lowered his eyes.

"Hey," she said softly and stepped in.

Cody was unsure if he wanted her gone or not. He was just awfully reminded that Jeff's information came from her file. When they brought him here he thought Victoria would be a good chance for him but he was no longer sure. Carefully he lifted his eyes and stared at her. He noticed that her hair wasn't red anymore. It was darker. He bit his lip knowing that he should have called her back.

"I'm not here to test you, Cody," she said and lowered herself in front of his chair. "I'm here to help you."

Cody turned his head away, trying not to sob when he said, "You…can't."

"I might; you just have to trust me. Do you trust me?"

All he wanted was to go home. He wanted this to be over but he couldn't do anything. He was trapped and as long as Beth…

"How is Beth?" He suddenly asked and she gave him a surprised look.

"She's in critical condition," Victoria answered honestly.

A shadow washed over his face and he wiped his wet cheeks with his sleeve, "I never meant to hurt her. He was wrong about me."

"What did he say about you?" Victoria asked softly

Cody shook his head and shrugged. Carefully Victoria reached into her pocket, pulled out a Rubik cube, and smiled. He made a face but almost laughed.

"That's stupid," he said, taking it into his heads.

"Well, it has worked before," she replied watching him as he calmed down. Focusing on one simple task made him relax slightly.

"You wanna tell me what he said?"

"He said I had it in me and that she would be the perfect victim," his voice was now mellow and steady. Almost in trance he kept talking: "He was right. She would have been because she's everything I hate. But I didn't want to hurt her. I know what I felt for her wasn't right but I never wanted to take her life."

Victoria inhaled deeply and listened, watching his hands carefully turning and moving the coloured quarters.

"I don't hate _you_. Maybe I do. I don't fucking know. You bitches drive me crazy," he snarled and went one with a monotone voice: "But you know what? I've got them all saved up in here," he pointed at his head and his voice cracked.

"Every night they're there. Why the fuck would I add one more to them. I've got twenty-one chicks tormenting me already. I can remember all of them. I remember their names, their houses; I remember how they fucking smelled. I know I'm fucked up. I know that. Hell, I know that I'm crazy but I didn't kill her. I let him do things to me…that I'm not proud of and I liked it. But I know the difference between right and wrong. Stop looking at me like I don't know that. I have so many thoughts in my mind that my head aches like hell but I know what I did. Just don't let her die. I don't _want_ her dead!"

With that he'd said enough. Victoria knew the slightly distanced facial impression and she watched him focusing every thought onto the one thing that seemed to have a logical solution. It had always been an affective tool and but she wasn't sure if that would be enough. As much as she wanted to believe every word she couldn't.

It wasn't as easy as that and Cody knew that.

* * *

Somewhere far away from the city almost in the desert Jeff was faced with a different task of his own.

They've got him. Red and blue lights reflected from his mirror and he let out a growl, thinking about his options. After taking another good look in the mirror, he decided that he would not run. He wasn't afraid when he stopped his car.

He was rather amused. It bothered him that he got caught but then again why not. That boy had distracted him and so he'd made a mistake. Of course, he had to face the consequences of his actions because there are _always_ consequences. He sat silently in the car and waited for them to arrive.

A loud voice told him to get out of the car with his hands above his head and he pictured smashing that guy's skull onto the concrete. Jeff was not stupid and counted too many eager police officers and one thing was certain, he wasn't ready to die yet. He wondered about Cody when he complied and grinned.

His lips never lost that soft amusing smile all the way back to the city. They had read him his rights and stopped communication. Jeff knew they had orders because they couldn't make a mistake. A part of him wanted to state, 'Don't worry you've won,' but it somehow felt inappropriate.

They pushed him through an office and Jeff walked slowly without any sign of anxiety. His eyes sparkled when he spotted Cody. Two men were escorting the profiler out of the interrogation room and for a brief second their eyes locked.

Cody was the one who quickly lowered his eyes away. Jeff's smile widened and he leaned closer to the younger man. Before anyone could react, he breezed in one word that made Cody flinch, "BOO!"

Agent McMahon reacted, pulled the tattoo artist away by his arm, and roughly pushed him inside the room.

"Sit down," he growled and Jeff eyed him curiously.

"Sorry, Sir but it was just a little sweet gesture between two _very_ close friends," Jeff replied cockily and leaned back into his seat.

The older Agent suppressed the urge to hit the suspect and calmed himself down. He wondered if they would get a confession or would be sucked into a game. McMahon decided for himself that he would see how far it would go and took a seat.

"I guess this is a non-smoking room." Jeff asked almost bored.

"Actually you know what? Fuck that. I'm having one myself," McMahon gestured the guard to un-cuff the suspect and threw a pack of Marlboro Lights and lighter to him.

"So are you the bad or the good cop," Jeff asked sarcastically and exhaled the smoke.

"I don't think you believe in that. I guess you just want to play but I'm telling you eventually we'll get your ass," McMahon growled confidently.

"Uh, I have no doubt you will. I'm not denying what I did. However, I'm wondering about the young profiler? It would be interesting to hear his defence regarding a certain reporter…" Jeff said in a low voice and a triumph smirk on his face.

"I don't think that your testimony would be believed anyway," McMahon conquered casually.

"You're right," the tattoo artist moved slightly and flicked the ash from his cigarette:

"For what it's worth he _did_ it. Of course he did. Did you doubt it? I bet not. It was bound to happen and you want to know the saddest part? It's all your fault. The FBI fucked him up from the moment they took his daddy away."

"Shut up," McMahon shouted and cursed himself for losing it like that. Why the hell was he even listening to this person? Because he's got a point, he thought tiredly and calmed himself.

"You're not here because of Agent Rhodes," he said and moved up when he saw a guard opening the door.

"Sir, we have a problem," Officer Jericho said and McMahon turned around staring into Jeff's smiling face.

McMahon stepped outside and saw Agents Michaels and Neidhart with concerned and surprised looks.

"What's wrong?"

Nattie Neidhart nodded her head into a direction and said, "Well, you know that the suspect had successfully forged all entries about himself?"

"Yes but I thought due to the school files you were able to filter the lost files out."

"Exactly and I presume you know who that is?"

McMahon squeezed his eyes to get a better look at the older man standing on a desk in the office. He seemed agitated and somewhat familiar.

"I'll be damned."

"Charles F. Hardy also known as Judge Hardy," Agent Neidhart said in a low voice.

"I seriously hope we didn't mess anything up and I suggest we double check all of the evidence," Agent McMahon said and his co-workers nodded.

While Jeff's father had arrived at the Headquarters, Cody was taken to a small cell. Victoria went with him and tried to reach him again. Before she left, still uncertain about what to believe, Cody said one more thing.

"Tell them to ask him about his first victim."

"The first victim on campus?"

"No, Robert wasn't the first. Ask him about the first. Robert was just a random frat boy he wasn't the _perfect_ first victim. I think that he killed before. The first time was personal, the follow-ups just remakes of the main event. It was his brother. I'm sure he killed his brother," Cody said quietly and focused back on the Rubik cube in his hand.

He seemed almost happy for a moment because he had found another piece of the puzzle. When they turned out the lights he was still awake and even in the darkness he played around with the devise because it kept him from falling asleep. He was too scared of his dreams.

* * *

**Thanks to my lovely reviewers:** _Twin T_ (love yooooou!!), _Animal Luvr 4 Life, Dark Kaneanite_ **and **_wrestlefan4_

**Seeing as I'm in an exceptionally good mood today, I thought I'd post 3 chapters :- )**

**What did Jeff's brother do to him to make him so... murderous? You'll have to read chapter 11 to find out! :-D**

**Loves ya!**

**Angel  
xxx**


	11. Chapter 11

**I'm going to warn you, there's some underage Hardycest in this chapter, it's not graphic as that would just be wrong. **

**Chapter 11**

_On Wednesday August 31st 1977 twenty year-old Sarah Vickers was brought into the emergency room with contractions. While miles away an F4 Tornado hit Michigan, Sarah fought heavily against the pain. Somewhere in California a twenty year-old woman was found guilty of armed robbery and on another continent a young black girl watched her brother getting shot. In between those turbulent events of the day, Jeffrey was born._

_He screamed loudly and his mother took him reluctantly into her arms. He would never be able to make a clear choice whether or not it was a blessing to be an infant blinded by helplessness. The newborn had no idea of the outside world when he was laid into his mothers' arms. There was warmth around him and therefore he stopped crying. _

_Nature apparently had a plan for him because his existence was a miracle. The many unorthodox methods with which his mother had tried to get rid of the growing child in her womb were fruitless and he was born a healthy child. A little small maybe but nothing to worry about. _

_Sarah was worried, though. Her life was now officially ruined, she thought as she cradled the peacefully sleeping boy in her arms. Her family had made it clear that she was no longer welcome at home and Jeffrey's father had offered her a monthly check in return for her silence._

_She moved into a small house in a quiet neighbourhood. The house was paid for and she received almost three thousand dollars a month. Yet, she barely made an effort to spend it. Sarah's biggest problem was that she had been in love with the child's father. Unfortunately she was nothing more than an affair and not even her sudden pregnancy could change that. _

_Vaguely Jeffrey would be able to recall the first five years of his life. Sometimes he believed them to be happy, sometimes horrible. Whatever they were, the only thing he remembered clearly was his mother. He remembered her to be funny. At least she had a talent for making him laugh. He would always be able to recall the slightly numbed voice of his mother blurring something to make him laugh. _

_A maid was sent to their home three times a week to clean and Jeffrey found that always highly interesting. He would be sitting on the couch pretending to watch TV whilst his mother made a complete fool of herself by harassing the poor woman. His mother always asked the same questions. _

'_Has he asked about us?'_

'_Won't he come by soon?'_

'_Doesn't he wanna see his son?'_

_She would receive nothing more than a shrug. The maid didn't know and Sarah fell back into her apathetic state. They barely left house and Jeffrey never questioned how they could afford a relatively decent home without her working. His entire world for the first five years of his life had been shrunk to their home. _

_The TV was the world outside and he was afraid to play outside. Mostly because his mom was constantly warning him about the _bad_ people out in the world. She would mumble something about broken hearts and snarling out her hate for everyone outside. Many years later, a clever man would point out that Sarah Vickers might have suffered from a form of aggravation. However, his studies came too late._

_It hadn't always been easy for Jeffrey to deal with Sarah's depression. Yet, he did. He was too young to understand that he wasn't exactly living in ideal circumstances and he loved his mother. Therefore, he only secretly wished to be part of one of the intact TV families._

_On one strangely beautiful autumn day, the depression had finally caught up with her. Sarah apologized to him firmly with a cigarette stuck on her lips. She mumbled something about him being a big mistake, emptied her glass and killed herself._

_Years later a psychiatrist would ask him what he remembered about that day. He would answer that he remembered the shade of the light. The day had started with his favourite light; he'd say and when asked what it was that made the day so different._

_Jeffrey had woken up on that dreadful day by the voice of his mother calling him down for breakfast. He pulled the blanket away and rubbed his eyes before approaching the window. He climbed up a chair, stared outside, and smiled. _

_A storm was coming and had already announced its arrival. There were still rays of sunlight fighting through the clouds but the sky had already turned almost black. The light was oddly cut from the sky as if it was no longer belonging. _

_All that remained was condensed sunlight, turning everything in an almost artificial glow. Jeff stared outside and felt like a part of the light. He felt cut off from the outside. They never interacted with the community. The adults around the suburban neighbourhood didn't accept them. The hippie vibe hadn't hit this part of the state yet and a single mother wasn't something to be tolerated. _

_Yet, since they barely went out anyway and Jeff was too young for school, nobody cared much. That was the reason why the married couple living next to them shut their windows when they heard a child starting to cry. It was also the reason why it had to been long after dawn before another neighbour across the street finally called 911. _

_The police arrived at the house prepared for some sort of domestic violence and were quite surprised to find Jeff sitting in front of his mother crying. She had cut her wrist and judging by the way she'd cut it wasn't a cry for help. _

_In the beginning Jeff had watched her silently not really sure of what was going on. When she stopped breathing he eyed her suspiciously still unsure of what to do. The thought of calling for help crossed his mind but faded away with the shock he was in. After two hours of silence waiting for something to happen he panicked and because he was a child, he did the one thing that would always get attention. _

_Jeff started crying. He cried for four hours straight and his throat was sore when they had found him. They brought him to the Sheriff's station and gave him some hot chocolate. They cleaned him up and called child services. They didn't explain to him what had happened and he didn't ask any questions._

_Charles Hardy was a very powerful man. A brilliant attorney with his eyes on the Supreme Court. When the call reached him at 9 pm at night he feared of all his hard work would fall apart. Nonetheless, the boy was his flesh and blood and therefore he drove to the Sheriff station to pick up his son._

_Charles secretly hoped the problem was out of the world and the only thing reminding him of his mistake were the monthly checks he'd sent Sarah. Obviously, the woman hadn't been stable and now he was stuck with his bastard son. He made some calls and decided that the only thing that would help him out of this mess was a confession._

_His wife was barely reacting until he mentioned that they had to take the boy in. She wasn't very happy about that. However there was a reason why they had found each other and her hunger for power, or more accurately the prestige and the riches that were created because of it, she played her part. _

_There was a press conference where Jeff's father gave a great performance in honesty and admitted openly to the affair. He made a statement that from now on Jeffrey would be part of the Hardy family. The five-year old was completely clueless about what was going on and quietly followed the stranger home. Mrs. Hardy fulfilled her motherly duty in ordering a maid to clean him up and showed him to his room._

_Hardy Senior came up to his room and gave him a speech. The older man was welcoming him to his family by pointing out what was to be expected from him. Jeffrey had become a Hardy and even though he didn't really care about that he accepted it wordlessly. _

_They fed him and he was sent to bed. When he crawled up under the itching blankets of the king size guest bed he cried for his mother. He cried for her for the last time and erased her from his mind. It seemed the best solution for him in his situation. On very few occasion he would be overwhelmed with a memory that always faded quickly. _

_However, there was one member in the family that sparked his interest. Matthew Hardy was eight years old and not very amused by his _new_ brother. However, there was never a true rivalry. Hardy Senior more than once showed how much he preferred his firstborn than Jeffrey. _

_Matthew was bothered by Jeffrey's presence and therefore forbid the young boy to play with his toys. Jeffrey would just watch him play with them. The younger boy never complained and soon figured out that the best way to live here was to become invisible. It was helping both sides to ignore each other. One thing he couldn't ignore was Matthew._

_The years passed by and Jeffrey watched silently as his stepbrother was growing up like a prince to a throne. Matthew was everything Jeffrey was not but wanted to be. Even though the older juvenile was barely talking to him, Jeffrey started to secretly worship him. _

_After six years, Jeffrey had become some sort of a ghost. Even though his grades were brilliant, nobody was taking notice of it. Nobody noticed that he was sneaking into Matthew's room every now and then just to be there. He wasn't touching anything just breathing in the scent of his older brother._

_Nobody noticed that he also developed quite an interest in death. He was thirteen when he read Kafka and listened to Mahler's 'Kindertotenlieder' on an endless repeat. Jeffrey wasn't a sad boy, he was just not really living in on the same level as his family. Whilst he was making a game out of listening to his heartbeat for hours in complete solitude, his older brother was confronted with an unexpected turn in his life._

_Turning sixteen turned out to be a challenge. When Matthew discovered that he rather liked to touch boys, he was desperately hiding it. He was ambitious and had inherited a natural hunger for power. Matthew was a popular boy at a private school and he intended to stay popular. This meant for him to date girls he didn't like and hiding every blush that caressed his cheeks when looking at a boy he liked._

_Homosexuality in his family and in his future was unacceptable. Hormones however made that mission very difficult and on one spring day, he accidentally bumped into his little brother on the corridor. Jeff mumbled a shy sorry and Matthew had found the solution to his problems. It was then that things took a drastic turn and neither of the adults noticed it._

_Later on that night Matt crawled up into his younger brother's bed and masturbated. On the second night, he used Jeff's hand to find release. Matt was only partly aware to the wrongness in his doing. He simply pushed aside all morals._

_Nevertheless, Jeffrey reacted somewhat unexpectedly and instead of feeling abused, he felt the opposite. Willingly he gave into the forbidden touches. The first few times it was only Matthew who initiated this forbidden intimacy._

_For a period of six months, Jeff was struggling with his emotions. Knowing somewhere in his head that it was wrong yet feeling completely uplifted by it as well. After his fourteenth birthday, he pushed aside all doubts and sunk into this twisted love affair. _

_Jeffrey had his first climax in the arms of Matthew and from that moment on lived only for him. He was badly craving the attention after being alone for so many years. _

_He wanted to become like Matthew and believed that the closeness would help achieve that. Jeff did everything Matt asked him to do and kept his mouth shut._

_Throughout his high school years, Matthad officially dated three girls, who were all heartbroken when he ended it and wascalled a playboy. He received praises for his athletic skills and was introduced to a row of powerful men. His life couldn't be any better. Nobody knew that he was getting release by abusing his younger half brother. _

_During that time, Jeff's mind was solely focused on Matthew. Unlike his older brother, he had no other goals and fell so helplessly in love with him that it erased everything else. His affection was always filled with a bitter taste but since he had no comparison, he didn't care._

_Matthew's attention to him, though, was limited to the time he needed to climax. He was friendly with him but nothing more. Their touches were passionate and heated yet made with different points of view. Thus, Jeff didn't even notice the coldness; in his mind he was loved beyond doubt._

_When Matthew went away for a year Jeffrey was devastated and suffered physically by being sick. Every second week his body was rattled by another infection and he fell back in school. During the twelve months he didn't receive a letter, nor did Matthew ever talk to him on the phone._

_The second Matthew was back in his life he seemed to recover. The first two weeks everything seemed to be going back to normal. Since the older Hardy Son had not outlived his urges during the exchange year in Europe he was equally lusting for that sort of closeness and carelessly took advantage of his teenage brother. _

_However, two weeks later Matthew went off to an Ivy League college with the goal to be accepted into a high profile Brotherhood. While he was only thinking about the pledging, Jeffrey struggled at home. He had lost interest in school all together and wasn't even showing up most of the time._

_Instead, he spent hours walking aphetically through the house. He had no friends and no other connections. His father was barely talking to him and therefore he decided on one hot summer day to follow his desired object of affection. He left on a Greyhound on a Friday morning and drove all the way up to California. _

_His family didn't even notice that he was gone. Jeffrey arrived on the campus of the Stanford University late in the evening and eagerly started searching for Matthew. He found him in the dormitory, where Matthew had been living for the time being. However he was determined to move into a Frat house as soon as he was accepted into the Brotherhood._

_Matt wasn't happy to see his younger brother. Not only because he seriously didn't want to have anything to do with him outside Jeff's bedroom but because he was confronted with his secret. He couldn't afford a scandal or even a rumour starting. They had an argument in which resulted in Matt telling Jeff to leave. _

_For Jeff it felt like his heart was being ripped out. Unwilling to accept it, he followed Matt to the Frat house that night. The task that the pledging boys had been given was a traditional one. They were all supposed to bring a willing girl. Ever since the discussion about hazing had started it seemed the easiest solution._

_Matt's date was a girl named Charlotte. Jeff watched them through narrowed eyes when they entered the house. For two hours he was fighting with himself about whether or not he should go inside. He decided to at least take a look. The backdoor was carelessly left open and he snuck in. _

_By that time, the seven Fratboys and the five pledges had already consumed alcohol in a high dosage, nobody noticed Jeff. He risked a look into the living room but Matthew wasn't there. He followed the music upstairs and found his stepbrother making out with Charlotte. _

_Jeffrey stood frozen in the doorframe trying to cope with the picture in front of him. Jealousy formed an adrenaline rush that made him shiver. He was just about to react and scream out when a voice from the corner growled. _

"_Who the fuck is that?"_

_Matt stopped his pathetic attempt to fuck his date and turned around. He frowned at the sight of Jeff and let go of the girl. _

"_That's my fucking brother, stepbrother I mean," he snarled angrily but there was fear weaving with his words._

_Stephen Amstell moved up from his seat and turned on the light. _

"_And what is your fucking brother doing here?"_

_Jeff blinked and lowered his eyes. The light made the whole scene so much more real and he felt a sickening feeling rising inside of him. _

"_Being a fucking pain in the ass," Matthew replied and grabbed his beer bottle. _

_Stephen smirked and took a step closer to Jeffrey. He leaned his head to the side and lifted Jeff's chin. _

"_You were supposed to bring a chick, Matt," he grunted and Charlotte let out a sound of disapproval. _

"_Fuck you both," she snapped and pulled her jeans up. She slipped her shirt over her head and grabbed her shoes. A scent of sweet perfume was all that was left when she angrily left the room. _

_Matt pulled a face and sighed. "Guess my chick is gone."_

_Stephen was a different type of guy. He wouldn't even call himself gay. He was just highly aroused by Jeff's confused looking eyes. Licking his lips, he gave Matthew a devilish grin. "Well, with the right preparation he could almost look like a girl."_

_Every second in one's life something life changing happens but rarely do we even acknowledge it. Jeff did. It wasn't so much that they stripped him and dressed him in a maid outfit they ripped from a life-size rubber sex doll._

_It wasn't the lipstick they stole from a girl's purse downstairs. Not their words. It wasn't Stephen softly brushing through his hair or the fading of his vision when his glasses were pulled away. It wasn't the being roughly touched by four hands._

_Not the playful beatings. Not their laughter that echoed through the air. It wasn't even the rape. It was Matthew's participation. Matt's acceptance of his despair that changed him forever. He had his hands clawed into the blankets and his lips pressed together tightly when they took him in turns._

_There wasn't a sound coming from him. His skin was itching from the cheap fabric of his dress. Another Frat boy stumbled drunkenly into the room, roaring something profound. He later wouldn't even remember that he had participated. It was all just a giant party. With loud music and a row of beautiful boys. _

_Jeffrey's mind however was focused on one of them only and his heart hardened the longer he was there. When they were too drunk to continue with it Matt lulled something about the ultimate task. This had been an old ritual in the pledges. They only slightly changed to rules. _

_About three more Frat boys joined the group as they dragged Jeff outside. The forest surrounding the Frat house wasn't big but it was still drowned in total darkness. They tied him to a tree and Matthew told Jeff that should he be here in the morning unharmed he would be accepted as an honouree member. _

_The growls of laughter circled through his mind as he watched them go. There was one thing Jeffrey was certain though he would _not_ be here in the morning. Pushing aside all dangerous sounding noises, the creepy darkness from the trees he ripped on his bounds. _

_He groaned and breathed heavily. Sweat poured down his face and he shook his head to keep the insects away. It was almost dawn when he finally had forced himself free by rubbing the rope against the sharp wood. Blood was trailing down his wrist like flames and he stared at his skin thinking that it looked amazingly beautiful. _

_There were traces of blood running down his thighs yet he ignored it. He got rid of the last piece of rope and the dress. Jeffrey left them at the tree before he turned away. He didn't look back when he started walking. He didn't feel the cold or the pain. There were no more tears because Jeff wouldn't allow himself to cry. _

_An older man on his way to work spotted the naked, bleeding boy on the roadside around ten am. He stopped his car and Jeffrey leaned his head to side. His eyes stared confused through the window whilst the man said something about a hospital._

_Wordlessly Jeffrey got into the car and left it just as wordlessly when they arrived at the hospital. He walked up the stairs feeling nothing. He wasn't even bothered about being naked. He reached the desk and said in a steady voice that he was in need for medical attention. The nurse was slightly taking back by his sight and needed to clear her throat before she sent him to room one. _

_Another seven hours later Charles Hardy arrived in the hospital. The doctor in charge informed him that Jeffrey had been sexually assaulted by at least three men. His injuries however were forced by an undefined sharp object, possibly a letter opener. There were some bite marks on his right shoulder and bruises._

"_What did he say?" Charles asked completely shaken by that revelation. _

"_Nothing."_

_Jeffrey left the hospital an hour later without revealing the names of his tormenters. He did not talk to his father during the drive. They drove back to the Frat house because Charles wanted to say good-bye to Matthew._

_Matthew was pale and he was obviously shaken when they stepped inside. None of the Frat boys seemed relaxed yet Jeffrey didn't move a muscle. He was actually relaxed standing in their circle. He could see the fear in those who helped with this. Their fear made him grin viciously at some point and it freaked them all out. _

_Jeffrey gave Matthew a piercing glance before he left, making a silent promise. Back in Cameron everything about Jeff changed. He was no longer playing a ghost but became loud and obnoxious. He was aggressive in school and when he killed the neighbours' dog, he was institutionalized._

_For one year, several psychiatrists had tried to find a way through to him yet Jeffrey did not intend to let them know what he felt. He had always been a very intelligent person but some of the doctors were surprised to see that Jeff's talent had been wasted. _

_While they tried to work with that Jeff was planning his brothers' death. He did so from the moment he had freed himself from the bonds. There was nothing that could make his mind stop from plotting. The image of his brother grew wider and more beautiful with every day and with every day he started to hate him more. _

_His agitation about those fantasies was making him become radical in his sexual behaviour and he was thrown into a two-week solitude chamber after an attempted rape on one of the other patients. It was in those two weeks that he realized that he was doing it all wrong. _

_He became a wonderful actor with a ton of applause when he supposedly had changed. Another six months of playing the cooperative patient and he was released back into society. Jeffrey didn't even greet his father when he came back. He was sixteen and hated it._

_Chester had to wait until he was be old enough and in the meanwhile, he pulled back to being a ghost. He was eighteen when he was finally able to live out his fantasy. For years, he had worked hard on himself. Despite his father's demands, he had skipped school and never even applied for a college. _

_Instead, he had found work at a local tattoo shop and learned that sort of art. He was still not athletic or very strong but he had developed an arrogance that overshadowed all weaknesses. _

_When he arrived at his brother's apartment in New York City he was aware of his attributes. He had shaved his head and was wearing a white wife-beater. Tattoos were already caressing his skin. He was feeling confident and aroused when he knocked at Matthew's door. _

_Matt had barely thought about his younger brother. Jeff, on the other hand, had done nothing but think about Matt. _

_Jeffrey knew that Matt would be alone for the weekend because he had listened to a conversation between mother and son. It seemed like a sign and he left almost instantly._

_Revenge was what he searched for. Some sort of closure. Maybe an answer as well. What he found was four hours of never before known pleasure. He had taken control of Matthew and had been soaked up into his own lust. The fury that had been raving inside his heart for so long was bursting out into brutality. _

_Jeff found himself inside a dance. A twisted waltz of violence, hoping that it would never end. Because in that moment Matthew had become his. He was ravaging over the utterly shocked older man. If someone would have stopped time for him maybe he would have been fine. _

_They both would have been stuck into this void of pain. Unfortunately, Matt died. Even though it had been planned from the beginning, it came completely unexpected. Torn between the intense pleasure he took out of his act and the loss of a loved one, Jeffrey cried again. _

_He cleaned Matthew's body thoroughly with soft tentatively hands. Brushed his hair like he would do with a puppet. All the time he talked to his older brother and felt the salt of his tears on his lips. When he left he burned the apartment. He would be standing at his brother's grave listening to the priest calling Matthew's passing a tragic accident without giving away his feelings. _

_After a year he started to remember his moment of happiness and he constructed a new plan. When he came to Los Angeles he had perfected his art and was instantly hired by Moore Ink. Even though many people would describe him as odd and scary he was respected for his talents. _

_Jeffrey successfully built up a new identity without accepting any money from his family. The last thing he wanted to be was to be a Hardy. Yet, he never considered changing the name. _

Jeffrey stared at the FBI Agent at the door knowing that his father had arrived. He wondered what he should do.

'_This is my story'_, he thought and grinned.

"Sir," he said and McMahon turned his head. "I want to make a confession."


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

_**"I will in all probability be convicted, but I will not go away as a monster, but as a tragedy." –Joel Rifkin aka The Chainsaw Ripper**_

"I want to speak to my son", Charles Hardy said in an agitated voice and Agent McMahon let out a deep breath.

The judge had been demanding to be led to his son for over an hour and unwilling to accept the simple fact that the suspect declined him as his lawyer. Jeffrey was an adult and therefore had the right to choose his own. Why the suspect declined help from such a powerful man was a mystery to the Agent.

All McMahon currently cared about was Jeffrey's confession that he offered so willingly. The older man feared that the young man might change his mind and would rather continue with the interrogation than listening to Hardy Senior.

"I'm sorry, Sir but he doesn't want to see _you_."

"He's clearly not able to make that choice," Charles replied firmly.

"Your son seems to be perfectly capable to make that choice. I know this must be hard for you, but you of all people should know that we have to respect his rights."

"Listen to me very carefully, either you let me see my son or I will rip this case apart. As far as I'm concerned the blame lies in the hands of one of your own," The judge threatened with a raised index finger.

Tiredly Agent McMahon let out a sigh and offered to at least ask the suspect again. This for a moment seemed to calm down the impressive anger of Jeffrey's father.

"You do that then."

XXX

The words Kramer heard when he entered the room again sounded like a mean remark. "He's giving you a hard time, isn't he?"

Jeff spoke in a slow, uncaring voice whilst he played around the pack of lighters.

"No, he isn't. He might be just afraid…"

"Afraid about his reputation I bet. It seems you find yourself in quite a dilemma," Jeffrey said and lit himself a cigarette. The metal of his handcuffs left an echo as they clanged against the table.

"Honestly, I don't care about your father or his influences. We've got enough evidence to convict you," McMahon replied and sat down across from the table.

A devilish smirk hushed over Jeff's face and he lifted his eyes. "Wow. A man who still trusts in the U.S legal system. I'm impressed."

"What is it that you want?" The agent asked and gave him a curious look.

Jeff paused. Slowly he exhaled the smoke, forming smoke circles with his lips. _What do I want?_ He thought, leaning lazily back in the chair. The truth was that he wasn't quite sure what he wanted. He hadn't really counted on being caught so quickly but wasn't too sad about it either.

"I want it to be over, I guess," he said deliberately letting his guard down.

"You want _what_ to be over?" McMahon asked deciding to not care about the judge anymore.

"How's the profiler?" The younger man suddenly asked and his eyes shifted for a second.

Agent Kramer ignored the subject change and repeated his question more firmly. "What do you _want_ to be over?"

The way Jeffrey pulled his hands back and moved showed that he was not feeling perfectly comfortable. He still tried to hold up his long trained confidence yet it was visible through his body language that he felt uncomfortable. McMahon wanted him to talk. Because the truth was that, they only had Cody's word.

Granted they also had evidence that Jeff Hardy had paid another man to pose as him and they had a nice little psychological profile that gave him a motive yet they were not physical evidence present at this time. No DNA had been found on any of the victims. Without a confession, it would be hard to convict him for all of the murders.

"Agent Rhodes is not your concern," McMahon said slowly.

"I'm surprised you still consider him an Agent," Jeff breezed out, smoke following his words.

"Why shouldn't I? He's a fine profiler."

Raising an eyebrow, Jeff almost growled: "Really? Even though he fucked up my profile?"

"He didn't. He actually made a perfect profile. He was just not able to see through your disguise," McMahon said and noticed a shadow of puzzlement washing over Jeff's face.

Jeff was seemingly confused by that statement and braced himself before he replied dryly, "He's not that different from me."

"I don't buy your story. I think this is all your mess. Frankly, I don't give a rat's ass about your profile or the tragedy behind your character. You are a cold-blooded murderer and I want to see you convicted. Don't try to play games with me. I'm not a fool."

"You don't believe he's got that darkness inside of him?" Jeff asked arrogantly and pressed his cigarette against the table. It seemed like such a defiant juvenile thing to do, nevertheless it made the Agent shiver slightly.

"No. I don't believe he would kill anybody. Being angry towards his father's victims doesn't even make sense. If he wanted to achieve closure through murder he would have gone for his father."

It was a far-fetched idea but nonetheless it forced out a reaction.

"Why?" Jeff asked curiously and locked eyes with McMahon.

"It started because of Chilton and not because of the women. Which actually makes me remember something Cody said recently. He said we should ask about the first victim. Mentioning that Robert Houghton might not be the first. Did you kill Robert Houghton?"

There was a tense silence between them before Jeff tilted his head to the side, saying in a fake innocent tone, "Robert…? Robert…who?"

His laughter filled up the room and McMahon felt sick.

"Robert Houghton," he answered trying to sound unemotional.

"I would like to see my father now," Jeff suddenly said and McMahon suppressed the urge to do some serious damage to the tattooed body.

XXX

While Agent Kramer took the news to Hardy Senior, Cody had sunk so deep into the abyss of his mind that Officer Jericho called up Victoria. The young profiler had been sitting in his small confined cell and wasn't even trying to sleep. All he did was play with the Rubik cube.

Turning it and twisting it inside his hands. His eyes fluttering and it was obvious that he was barely able to keep them open. He hadn't touched any of the food or the water brought to him and did not respond to anything aside from the cube. Chris had watched him for nearly three hours through the small window of the door and had not noticed any change in the profiler's behaviour.

He had been assigned to keep an eye on Cody because they feared a suicide attempt. Chris shortly wondered if the Agent might simply die from exhaustion and he became slightly worried. He informed his superior officer and half an hour later Victoria Varon showed up with a hot cup of coffee inside her palms.

"I thought someone should do something," Chris said shyly and blushed when she gave him a warm yet tired smile.

"Thank you, Officer. That was very thoughtful of you. But I'm afraid there isn't much I can do."

"Can't you give him something to help him sleep?"

Victoria let out a heavy sigh before she turned her gaze away from Chris and faced the young officer. "No. Actually there are orders to not provide him with any mind-bending substances."

She could see Chris's shoulders sinking as he said, "But he obviously needs rest. This doesn't seem very healthy."

"Why are you so concerned anyway?" She asked and blew over the cup to sink the beverage's temperature.

"I don't know. I feel kinda sorry for the guy," Chris confessed and gave her a wry smile.

"Would you open the door for me?" Victoria asked with a low voice, knowing that it was against protocol. Yet, she wasn't with the FBI and her worries only lay with Cody.

Even though it was against his orders which stated that no one was to be allowed to talk to the suspect, Chris complied after a short struggle with himself. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing the profiler could say or do in that state of mind. Pulling out the slightly oversized metal key, he unlocked the door, whispering, "I'm going to be in so much trouble for this."

Victoria nodded a small thank you and hushed inside the cell. Only a small light lit up the greyness of the place and she shivered from the cold. Cody didn't even seem to notice her. His eyes still fixed at the cube, matching the colours and shades only to be separating them again later.

"You should sleep," she said softly, sitting down on the only chair inside the room.

Flipping the small quarters with his restless fingers Cody didn't even look up, but mumbled, "I…can't."

Silently she watched him wondering if there was even a way to pull him out of that mess. Victoria had known him for so long but never before had she seen him so vulnerable. The Rubik cube had become his centre of attention solely because it was an easy task to manage.

At first, he seemed unimpressed by her presence but after a short while he suddenly paused and lifted his suffused eyes, "Did he confess?"

Victoria shrugged and zipped on her coffee, trying to create a more relaxed atmosphere, she said, "I don't know. I know he is being questioned as we speak but they didn't give me any information."

One little row of quarters moved and the cube was perfectly in order. Cody gave her a sad look when he said, "What if he doesn't? What if he doesn't and Beth…?"

"You _have_ to rest, Cody. This toy won't answer your questions."

It touched Victoria to notice how much younger he seemed as he defiantly curled his lips. "But my dreams won't answer them either. They only make them worse."

"Waiting until your body breaks down won't help with that," she replied and stood up to approach him.

Cody flinched when she sat down next to him and pressed himself tighter against the wall, saying quietly, "I don't want to sleep, okay. Just leave me alone."

Victoria sighed and slowly got up. "Alright, Cody…"

Cody watched the woman walk towards the door before finally saying, "I want to see my dad's file."

XXX

Charles Hardy was not prepared for the sight of his son. He felt like he was looking into the eyes of a complete stranger when he brusquely pushed McMahon aside and approached him.

"Jeffrey…" he started but was struck silence by his son's dark voice.

"Don't even bother pretending to be a caring parent. I'm not sad about it either. But I thought you wanted to hear my confession," Jeff stated and locked eyes with the older man.

"Don't you dare and make a testimony yet. They have nothing against you aside from a lunatic's word."

"Agent McMahon I think you might want to turn on your little tape recorder," Jeffrey simply said and turned around to face the Agent.

"Jeffrey I'm warning you…"

"Shh, Dad. This is my turn," the boy said and gave him a cold smile, "You asked me about the first victim. Let me assure you it wasn't Robert Houghton."

Another Agent had entered the room and silently positioned himself behind McMahon. The tape recorder hummed steadily to the rhythm of a killer's voice.

"Robert was a sweet boy. I met him at a party and I made his tattoo."

"We found no records in the store that would indicate you inked the victims."

Jeffrey grinned broadly before he said, "It was a _private_ session. I've had private sessions with all of them. Well, except Antony. I didn't have time to give him my mark."

Charles felt his neck hairs straining up as he watched his own flesh and blood confessing to a row of brutal murders. He couldn't believe that this was the same boy he had picked up after the mother had died. Jeff's dark voice sounded uncaring as he talked about the victims that his father felt appalled and oddly disgusted.

Slowly Jeff gave a detailed description of every single murder that was linked to the Frat boy killings. He didn't look at his father who was sitting quietly in shock next to him. The only reason why he even made this confession was the answer he would give the officers should they ask him why.

"I wanted to have that feeling again. To be in perfect control of a beautiful human being. I would have done it again, and again. It's the warmth I'm craving. You might say I'm insane but I assure you my mind was always working flawlessly when I had my time with them. They all looked so pretty when they cried for me to stop."

The sound of a chair sliding over the ground pulled them all out of their thoughts as Charles rose up.

"I won't listen to this…" he snarled and turned around.

"Matthew was the first," Jeff whispered and his father slowly turned around with his eyes widened.

"What…"

"Mr. Hardy I think its best if you wait outside," McMahon carefully said noticing the thickening of the air.

"Matthew gave me the perfect moment," Jeffrey went on with a vicious smile painted on his face. "He died very slowly. We had a lot of fun."

Charles Hardy seemed frozen and unable to move as he listened to Jeff's confession. He couldn't comprehend what he was hearing. His heart had been in so much pain ever since his firstborn had died and now he was staring into his murderer's eyes. And those eyes belong to his second son.

"I fucked him…" Jeff's voice sounded almost cheerful yet there was a wave of bitterness and hurt in it as he went on: "…just like he fucked me before. A million times before…"

"Mr. Hardy I really do think its best…"

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you didn't _know_ that your son was a fucking faggot. Damn you are really blind when it comes to your family," Jeffrey answered, unable to hide his emotions any longer. He had been dreaming about this moment for such a long time.

"You never heard him fucking me in your own house? In my bedroom? Never? Be honest dad, I bet you did and probably closed the fucking door!"

Agent McMahon felt his heartbeat increasing and slowly moved up. He had seen people like Charles Hardy before. The anger and the hatred clearly visible on his face combined with a guilt that would never fade away.

"I loved him, you know," Jeffrey breathed out, suddenly lowering his eyes. "I wasn't supposed to, I guess. Everyone was so fucking proud of him. You _knew_ it was him and his precious 'brothers' that did it. You fucking knew. But you bought him a car. Well, I guess that backfired."

Nobody said anything for a few minutes and the angry outburst hung around in the air. Jeff exhaled sharply and cursed himself in the back of his head. He hadn't intended to show so much of himself but the damage was done. The last thing he wanted was compassion and therefore he leaned arrogantly back in his chair and growled.

"I raped him for hours; I was riding your precious heir until he couldn't take it no more. I licked off his blood when I cut him and I laughed in his face when he begged me to stop. I told him that they hadn't stopped either and then he died. That fucking bastard died while my cock was inside him…"

Within seconds, the room was filled with pure chaos as Charles leaped forward to attack his son. The face of the older man soaked into a furious red as he screamed and wrapped his hand around Jeff's neck. The chair flipped over and the older man dripped along with it not letting go.

Instantly both Agents jumped forward to prevent yet another crime. It took both of them to finally force Charles to release Jeff, who fell to the side coughing and choking. In between his gasps for oxygen, he started laughing hysterically. Mocking his father as they dragged the judge outside.

When the door locked all that was left was silence and his heavy breathing. Being alone had a profound affect on the serial killer and he curled himself up. The handcuffs making his movements difficult. He could still feel the hand around his neck and a part of him wished to be dead in that instant.

For years, he believed that once he said it all out loud the nagging pain raving inside his heart would be gone. Utter despair overwhelmed him when he realized that nothing would be able to make it fade. While outside the Agents tried to calm down the shocked and outraged father, bitter tears started to run down the murderer's cheeks.

XXX

Cody lifted his eyes when he heard the noise from outside. He understood only bits and pieces but his heart somehow knew that Jeff had confessed and that the man outside screaming must have been his father.

"Who's to blame?" he apathetically asked. "The cold-blooded killer? The brother who abused him or the father who never cared?"

Victoria felt her heart jump whilst she stared at him and shrugged. "Everybody. They are all guilty in their own way."

"That makes me guilty as well," he stated dryly and lowered his eyes.

"Guilty of what?"

"Of being silent."

Victoria wasn't sure if his request would be granted and frankly, she wasn't sure if he should see it anyway. Years ago she had spent hours flipping through the folder of his father's crime.

"You were a child. You didn't commit the crime. Your father killed those women not you. If you don't start to accept that…"

She flinched by the cracking sound of the Rubik cube falling to pieces as Cody smashed it against the wall. "I do know that it wasn't me…I fucking know that. That is not what is eating me up inside. I don't care about those fucking bitches."

Trying to control her voice Victoria softly asked, "What is it then?"

Brushing through his hair in a desperate gesture, Cody lost the fight against his tears and sobbed out, "Did he ever love me?"

Confused and unsure, she narrowed her eyes. "Who? Jeffrey?"

A growling laughter made his body rattle as he snarled, "My dad. How could he do that to me? What did I do wrong?"

If it hadn't been so sad she would have smiled, amused because for so many years everyone believed it was all about the murders. It never occurred to her or any other professional for that matter that the only thing that's been haunting Cody would be the question of his fathers love.

"I'm sure he loved you very much. I recall him stating that in his testimony," she answered in a tender voice and placed the palm of her hand on his sleeve.

"Is it wrong of me to think about him when I should feel compassion for the poor women?"

"No, Cody. I don't think that is wrong. I will get you your father's file but you have to promise me to read it after you've rested." Victoria said, unsure if she would be able to keep her promise.

However, the dark shadows surrounding his reddish eyes clearly showed his need for sleep. Whatever will happen he wouldn't be able to get through it if his mind craved nothing more than rest. She also knew that even if Beth Phoenix would survive he wouldn't be out of trouble.

It pained her to realize that Cody would never be truly free of his demons. Either way she would suggest that he should be institutionalized for at least six months if not longer.

Her words seemed to have the right affect and he slowly sunk onto the bed, lying to the side and allowing her to carefully cover him with the gray blanket. Weakly he mumbled something she couldn't understand and almost instantly drifted into sleep.

Chris opened the door and informed her in a whispered voice about the chaos inside the FBI headquarters. Instead of leaving Victoria walked through the corridors to find Agent McMahon who sat in his office with a tired facial impression staring blankly at the picture of his family.

"I heard you had a rough day."

"Well, guess it comes with the job," he replied dryly and lifted his eyes to add, "The hospital called. It looks like Beth Phoenix will survive."

"That's good news," she said and rubbed her eyes.

"They say she might be conscious to make a testimony tomorrow. It all depends on what she has to say," McMahon gave a wry smile when he added, "Victims tend to see things rather differently."

XXX

While Victoria and the older Agent shared a rare moment of solitude, both wondering what the reporter would have to say, Cody had fallen into a deep sleep filled with darkness. His mind too exhausted to follow his dreams.

They had taken Jeff into another cell and left him with a scratching blanket and his thoughts. Charles Hardy had a nervous breakdown and they called an ambulance because they feared a heart attack.

None of this was affecting Jeff, though, because he had just realized that he wouldn't get closure and he craved the contact of a young and pretty boy already. He started hating the walls around him that deprived him from release. Only a small part of him understood that it was likely that he would be sent to death row.

Another part thought of his brother. Curled up like a newborn he had slid under the blanket, wondering if his brother was watching him now. The years of built up confidence seemed to be stripped away from him with that thought.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

"_**I talked to her saying that I was sorry for what I had done. It was the first time that I had apologized for someone I killed." – Peter Sutcliffe aka The Yorkshire Ripper**_

White was the first thought she had when she opened her eyes. The blinding white from the hospital walls pulled her quickly back to a conscious state. Her confusion faded with her memory. Vaguely she recalled that she had woken up before. Only for a small moment and that a nurse freed her sore throat from a tube.

Obviously she was able to breathe freely yet her throat still ached with every swallow and it was reminding her painfully of why she was here. Weakly she tried clearing her throat and slowly moved her head around. A faint, amused smile hushed over her pale features when she spotted her assistant sleeping peacefully next to her.

Beth licked her lips and tried to form some words but the attempt alone seemed too straining. She opened her mouth and was shocked about the sound of her voice. It was merely a croak supported by a faint sound. Frustration came over her when she realized that she wouldn't be able to speak loud enough for Ken to hear her.

Nevertheless, Beth Phoenix had learned to find the best solution in every situation and therefore started drumming her fingers on the bed. It took awhile but eventually Ken noticed an unfamiliar sound and slowly woke up. He rubbed his tired eyes and his face lit up when he saw her awake.

"Beth!" He shouted and moved up, taking hold of her hand. "Damn woman I really thought you were gone."

She blinked with her eyes and tried again to speak. Ken noticed her struggle and grabbed a glass of water from the nightstand.

"Here. But the doctors said you should take slow and short sips."

The cold water helped soothe the pain slightly and she gave him a grateful smile, croaking, "Thanks."

When she sunk back into the cushion her hand unconsciously moved up to her throat and her fingers trailed over the thick bandage. She swallowed hard and tried to move up. Ken watched her movement with a mixture of fascination and compassion.

"Does it hurt?"

Beth nodded and let out a growling sound, "Like hell!"

"How the fuck did you end up like this?" Ken asked, pulling the chair closer to the bed and watched her with an eager facial expression.

Her memories were faint. As much as she tried it, she could only vaguely recall all events. The most vivid memory was Cody Rhodes and she made a face when the images flashed before her eyes. His face and most importantly his eyes were burned inside her mind and she tried to get rid of an awful feeling.

"They are all freaked out about your testimony. Rhodes' life is in your hands, Beth," Ken explained and she gave him a puzzled glare.

"My hands…?"

"The killer says that Cody did that to you."

_Interesting_, she thought feeling a heavy wave of tiredness overwhelming her. Blinking it away she stared blankly at the ceiling and thought about Cody Rhodes.

She could remember very clearly seeing his body moving on top of her. She could still feel his weight on her. Beth shook her head tiredly and breezed out, "I can't remember."

Not all of it, anyway. For now she remembered that Cody had jerked off on top of her and that image was still too intense for her to cope with. Even if he didn't slash her throat, he still had made her feel vulnerable, helpless and somewhat dirty. She was not sure what to do with her blurry memories and decided to wait.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Sir but you can't see Mr. Rhodes," Agent McMahon said in a very soft voice but only earned another angry glare from the young man.

"But I'm family," Ted snarled angrily.

"I understand that, but Mr. Rhodes is the suspect of an on-going murder investigation and only his lawyer is allowed to visit," Mcmahon explained, trying to sound sincere.

"Suspect? Are you kidding me? Cody isn't a murderer. Besides I know that you let Victoria in."

"Dr. Varon helped out because Cody is in a very bad mental state," the older Agent stated and Ted's face blushed a furious red.

"Of course he is. You've got him locked up and you're treating him like a criminal."

McMahon sighed and watched the young man closely. It seemed that he was truly caring and the older man found it even harder to stay objective. From what he had heard in the last couple of days it was up to a judge to decide whether or not Cody was innocent.

Or rather how innocent. Because either way he had screwed up. Possibly screwed up the entire case and had been involved with the killer in a sexual relationsship. One thing was sure and it was visible through the headlines of the current news Cody was at least partly guilty of a crime.

"Please, Mr. DiBiase I can't let you see him. I can't discuss this case with you either. You are not a legal representative and you are not blood-related with the suspect. I talked to your parents on the phone and I had to tell them the exact same thing. Cody is an adult and he is treated like an adult."

Teddy gave him a desperate look and his voice pleaded. "I just want to tell him that I'm here in the city. That he isn't alone."

"I'll make sure he knows that but you have to go."

"This sucks," Ted snarled but reluctantly turned away. He was aware of the curious glares that followed him around. He had been quite relieved that the press hadn't recognized his relation to Cody when he arrived at the FBI Headquarters in Los Angeles.

The media had jumped on that story like a pack of hungry wolves. Originally, they had concentrated once again on the sad and tragic story of Cody rather than the killer. That, however had changed the second it had been revealed who Jeff's father was. The press happily created a heartbreaking natural born killers story about the two of them.

Currently they were the highest discussed couple in town and no celebrity divorce could hold up to them. That they never had been a couple in an old fashion sense was unknown and since nothing had been discussed with the press, they blew up the story in a way that went beyond the competence of the FBI.

Rumors were sold as facts and currently seventy percent of LA's population believed that Jeffrey had tattooed Cody at some point, that they had met years ago in a mental institution and that Cody had helped to clean the bodies of the Frat boys. Many other theories were cruising around the internet and apparently they even had a fanlisting.

Ted didn't believe most of it yet couldn't deny that some sounded accurate. He wanted to talk to Cody, wanted to hear it from him. What the hell happened? And most importantly why. He knew Cody for such a long time yet never truly got to him. Teddy was one of the few who knew that Cody in fact was gay but since he never even attempt to date it was never something he thought about much.

Strangely enough, it seemed to make a weird kind of sense that of all the people Cody would give in to someone like Jeffrey. Ted wasn't a fool; he had seen the pictures. Obviously, that guy had a very dominant aura around him and it seemed somewhat right that Cody would want that.

This, however, did not explain how he ended up in such a situation. Cody was a good profiler, truly gifted to see through other people. Why did he not see who Jeff really was? He must have known or at least felt that something was up. Ted refused to believe that Cody had really participated in those crimes.

The tabloids talked about a deep seething hatred towards women. Ted believed that to be bullshit. Mostly because he had seen Cody with women around. Granted they always seem to intimidate him because of the guilt he carried around in his heart. But hatred? It seemed too strong an emotion for a guy who carefully avoided any kind of emotional intercourse with the rest of the world.

Frustrated he walked outside of the building and passed the waiting journalists. He was just about to get in his car when he heard his name being called.

"Teddy?" Victoria said and smiled.

"Victoria. Thank god, finally someone with answers. What the fuck is going on? Is he okay?"

"He's… fine. As fine as he can be in the current situation," she answered and Ted noticed the worry in her voice.

"What happened?"

Victoria shrugged. "I really don't know what exactly happened. But he is in trouble, Ted. Big trouble and he needs a lawyer."

Victoria Varon had known Ted and the DiBiase family for as long as she had known Cody. They were always willing to help. Eager even to help Cody. She always thought that he couldn't have gotten a better family to take care of him. Unfortunately, as friendly as she was with them, Cody had always maintained a strong distance.

"I'll talk to Dad, he'll figure it out," Ted replied then added, "Is it really that bad?"

"Yes, it is that bad. He screwed up. Jesus, Ted they are going to charge him with attempted murder and accessory to murder in five cases."

Her words were buzzing around his ears and he felt the blood rushing through his veins. Clearing his throat he lifted his eyes and asked, "Do you believe that is justified?"

After hours of being awake and alert, Victoria suddenly felt tired. She rubbed her eyes and weakly croaked, "I'm not sure what I should believe at this point. God, how could I not see this coming? How could I be so blind?"

"See what coming? That he would have an affair with a serial killer? Excuse me, Victoria but I think you are blaming yourself for something nobody could foresee."

"He wasn't ready and he should have never joined the FBI. I signed his recommendation. I thought it would be good for him to do it. Though I knew that he had never recovered from his past."

Ted leaned against his car and sighed. "He loved doing it. I'm telling you he seemed almost… happy lately."

"He's broken, Teddy. He always has been and there is nothing you or I or anybody can do about it. His problems are far too deep to be solved. I've suggested that once this is over he should be institutionalized."

A shadow washed over Ted's face and his voice sounded faint when he said, "Again? Don't you think there is another way?"

"I'm afraid not. He can't just go back to normal after that. If they don't convict him, he'll need professional help. He needs to seriously deal with his past. There are questions he has never dared to ask and it's time he faced them."

* * *

Jeff didn't move a muscle in the courtroom. He didn't show any kind of emotion when they brought him in and didn't react when they charged him officially with murder in the first degree in at least five cases. He didn't care.

His father had been brought into a hospital because his heart couldn't cope with the stress. A lawyer had been provided for Jeff yet he barely spoke with him at all. When they brought him back from court they told him he would be transferred to a highly secure facility until his trial.

He took that message without a blink. His walk was still arrogant and every now and then a smirk curled around his lips. Someone asked him if he found it amusing that he was most likely going to die for his crimes and he simply showed his teeth in a grin. He didn't say anything but he thought that it seemed like a poetic justice.

The world he had learned to use to his advantage had become an unfamiliar place. He had become a stranger and became increasingly tired. The only thing that still sparked his interest was the media. He enjoyed following their made-up story of romance. He found himself wondering about Cody and somehow he believed that he had gotten the better half of this twisted affair.

Jeff knew what would happen. It was inevitable. He had brutally murdered a bunch of beloved Frat boys and even confessed to the murder of his older brother. His profile gave him motive and made him a serial killer. A doctor and a psychiatrist had examined him and both noted that he had been clear minded at the time of the crime and his confession.

Last night they had found Antony Manford's body. Due the lack of time, Jeff had dumped it shortly after he had left the house and since he didn't have time to clean him they found DNA evidence all over the body. His case was clear. A simple case that not even the best lawyer would be able to twist around.

Sure, they would claim that his brother had mistreated Jeff. They would give the jury a sad and tragic outline of his miserable life but in the end, he was a murderer. A killer and justice would do its job. This, in the sunny state of Los Angeles, meant death row.

In the case of Cody Rhodes nothing was clear. As long as Beth Phoenix wouldn't testify in his favor, all bets were off. Jeff wasn't helping the profiler because it was the last piece of enjoyment he had. Mostly because he blamed Cody for his capture.

Jeff also despised the Agent for his lack of confidence. Cody was too easy to manipulate and seemed to have no will of his own. Someone asked Jeff why he had indulged in a relationsship with Cody and Jeff had answered that he wished he knew. That he would certainly not do it again.

Although sometimes he thought that that was a lie. Cody had been interesting to him because he had seen a lot of himself inside the profiler. Maybe a part of him was angry that despite all that's happened to him Cody never gave into the dark side of his soul. Jeffrey, on the other hand, had very early on chosen a darker and more violent path.

Whatever it was it had cost him his freedom and possibly his life, yet that exactly was why Jeff sometimes believed it was destiny to have met Cody. Because Cody ended it. Ended it for the both of them. It was strangely good to know that his own torment would soon be over but Cody's hadn't even truly started yet.

* * *

"Agent Neidhart, I think we have a problem," McMahon said and pointed to his left side.

"What on earth is she doing here?"

Beth Phoenix had just entered the headquarters, bracing herself onto Ken's arm. Her walk was slow and she looked awfully pale.

"Miss Phoenix," McMahon said and quickly approached her. "You shouldn't be here so shortly after your surgery."

The reporter waved her arm dismissively and snarled in a rasping voice, "It's… okay Agent McMahon. I wanted to make my testimony."

"We could have come to you," he tried again but she shook her head.

"I know you might think I'm shallow but this is my story. I'm going to make my testimony here and now. And I want to see Cody Rhodes afterwards."

Every Agent around her gave her puzzled look and McMahon cleared his throat. "I'm afraid that won't be possible…"

"Agent McMahon, I just want to thank the man who saved my life. I'm sure you'll understand that and I'm sure it's better than if I would make something up in my story," she said firmly and despite her strange sounding voice she seemed determined.

"He saved your life?" McMahon asked and sunk into a chair, offering her a seat as well.

"According to the paramedics if it wouldn't been for his pressure I surely would have died of blood-loss," she said quietly.

"Jeffrey Hardy claims that Cody used the knife on you."

"And you believe a lying bastard like him? I'm having a hard time trying to remember everything but I know that it wasn't Cody who made the cut. I won't deny that there has been a rather unpleasant moment between me and the Agent but he didn't want to kill me. That much I know."

"Why do you want to see him?" McMahon asked, feeling relieved that Cody had spoken the truth yet he was highly suspicious about Beth's motives.

"Just make it happen, Agent McMahon," Beth replied and breathed out heavily. It was straining for her to be here yet she wanted to see Cody. She couldn't really explain why, only that vague urge that she wanted to look him in the eyes. The reporter in her also wanted to stay close to that story no matter what.

Beth had her legs crossed and waited anxiously whilst McMahon talked to Agents Michaels and Neidhart. She ignored Ken's worried looks and her aching throat. After what felt to her like an eternity, the older Agent came back and helped her up. They brought her into an interrogation room and McMahon informed that they would ask Cody if he was up for this confrontation.

He didn't make any promises because it was Cody's right to decline it. He also mentioned that his psychiatrist strictly advised against it. Beth only shrugged and leaned back into the chair. Her fingers drummed on the surface of the table as she waited, her mind trying to create a story for Cody. She did that in order to understand him better.

"_Daddy, don't…" Cody snarled and was struck silent within seconds, his eyes fixed on his father who had just knocked a young woman unconscious._

"_Leave her, please, leave her," he pleaded with a frantic voice. Not again, not another one, he thought deep in despair. _

"_It has to be done. You heard her. She yelled at you. You heard her! She's so loud. Obnoxiously loud. We have to rid the world of her."_

"_But…" Cody started but swallowed his words. 'But she hasn't done anything', was what he wanted to say. His father's dark and viciously sparkling eyes made him silent. _

_As done so many times before, Cody opened the trunk so his father could put the motionless body inside. They drove to her house. They always drove to their homes because his daddy said that her family had to find her. _

_It was early in the morning and she had been on her way to work. For three days, his dad had been following her every step and Cody had been on his side. Mostly waiting in the truck with his car for his father's return. Everything had been planned, everything was always a routine. Nothing could disturb that routine. _

_Once Cody had become sick and his father became very angry with him because it disrupted the pattern. Ever since then, Cody usually bared silent witness to the crime. This time he was more agitated because he had met Susan in the grocery store and she had been nice to him._

_She had given him candy for free. It had happened before his dad saw her and Cody enjoyed the attention from the woman. A jar dropped when he passed a shelf and Susan had raised her voice at him. It was the second time they entered the store and Cody frantically tried to make her quiet._

_He could tell by the blank stare of his father that she would be next and nothing he said or did could prevent it. It was making him angry and scared. They brought her into her own house and Cody held her wrist whilst his father tied her to the kitchen table. Thick crimson tears trailing down his cheek as he repeatedly tried to convince his father to let her live. _

_It was the first time that his father ever hit him. A hard slap across his face made him silent. It was the first time that he ever felt fear of his father. Maybe because he was old enough to see that whatever was making his father do these horrible things had taken a hold of the older man's mind._

_Edward Chilton had hit his son because his son had been trying to save her. His son was crying silently next to him whilst he masturbated and eventually reached his climax, which always led to the final blow. Her blood burst out of her throat and when he regained focus, he saw himself confronted with the blood stained face of his son. _

_The older man leaned against the wall, watching his son cleaning up his mess and for the first time since the killings had started, he realized something he had always ignored. He was destroying his child. Systematically without caring about the damage. Cody kneeled on the floor, trying to get rid of the blood and Chilton could see his son's tears dropping down to the concrete. _

_A part of the routine had always been that he would take his son by his hand and take him out for lunch. He would buy Cody something unhealthy and add a ton of sweet afterwards. After they left Susan's house he took him to a diner and ordered him pancakes. _

_He tried to reach him but Mike was poking around his food carelessly, still fighting with the overwhelming sickening feeling inside him. Edward Chilton excused himself for a brief moment and went outside. He soaked in the fresh air and his eyes spotted a phone booth. _

_Their house was only a few towns away and Edward knew that they would have to move pretty soon. Never strike an area twice had always been his motto. This time however he slowly walked towards the phone booth. _

_When he came back into the diner his son didn't know that Edward had called the police. He paid for the food and took Cody by his hand. He pulled him into his arms before they would get into the car. He whispered that he was sorry into his son's ear and promised that it was the last time. _

_He thought he had done the right thing for his son. When they took him away, he thought it was best that Cody would not visit him. It was Edward himself who asked the authorities to keep Cody away from him and from prison. He had realized that his hatred towards strong and confident women shouldn't be that of his son. _

Beth Phoenix stared once again at white walls while Agent McMahon walked down the corridors with Cody at his side.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked the quiet young man next to him.

"Yes, I want to see her," Cody replied and swallowed hard. He wasn't sure what he should expect from seeing Beth again. He just knew that he _had_ to do it. Therefore, he ignored his raging heart and suppressed his fear of the confrontation.

* * *

**Thanks to my reviewers: Tina, Leesie, Animal Luvr 4 Life and Wrestlefan4**

**Loves ya!**

**Angel  
xxx **


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

_**"I couldn't find any meaning in my life when I was out there. I'm sure as hell not going to find it in here. This is the grand finale of a life poorly spent and the end result is just overwhelmingly depressing … it's just a sick, pathetic, wretched, miserable life story, that's all it is. How it can help anyone, I've no idea." - Jeffrey Dahmer aka The Milwaukee Monster**_

Cody watched her closely whilst he slowly walked to the empty chair. Much to everyone's surprise, he seemed almost calm. Agent McMahon was standing next to door while Agent Neidhart and Victoria Varon stood outside and watched them through a glass window.

Nobody was exactly happy about the obvious yet still un-provable blackmail. The reporter knew that the bureau was already barely able to control the press as it was. Having her in the spotlight accusing them to not let her see her supposedly hero would only increase the tension.

Everyone was feeling highly agitated because they didn't even know if she was to be trusted. Maybe she simply wanted access and the profiler would be angered in her presence. What if he was truly crazy? It was a mess the whole thing was a mess and especially Agent McMahon didn't like it one bit.

"Agent Rhodes," Beth greeted him without smiling. Her voice was rasping and her discomfort was noticeable.

Cody, who had the feeling of being awake in a dream only nodded at her. It seemed surreal to him that she was here. Only days ago he had felt her blood on his skin and now she was sipping on a glass of water. He lifted his eyes despite the shame he felt in her presence and stared at her.

Beth looked different than she had before. Her skin was paler, somewhat ash-gray and exhaustion was reflecting from her eyes. She had her hair up in a tight pony-tail, which intensified the sickening sight. It made her look older. Just like Cody was used to he soaked in every detail and noticed the slight trembling of her lips.

He noticed her agitation by the moving of her chest and was aware of her breast straining against her blouse with every deep breath she had to take. Every now and then, she swallowed and it was visible through her facial impression that it hurt her. Cody caressed her with a curious look wondering how deep the cut was.

"You shouldn't be up so soon," he suddenly croaked very quietly.

His words took her off guard she hadn't expected him to speak first. His intense stare made her shift in her seat and she cursed herself for not being able to hide her discomfort. It also reminded her of her helplessness in that dreadful moment. However, she had plan.

In her mind, all nightmares would surely be fading once she would be famous for this story. What Beth hated the most was the compassion she felt. When she had arrived at the FBI Headquarters against the clear judgment of the hospital, she felt strong and confident.

She thought she had everything under control. Her ambition had driven her here because she believed that in order to make this a good story she should meet Cody in person. Her anger and despise however seemed to weaken with his sight. He didn't look like a horrible person but like a little boy.

His hair was sticking away from his head in total chaos. His eyes suffused and blood red filled with tiredness and guilt. It was obvious that he felt uncomfortable around her but his exact emotions were hidden behind a blank stare. He was looking through her façade in a way that took the wind out of her words.

"I'm good thank you for asking," she replied shortly confused over her choice to come here.

"What do you want from me?" Cody asked this in a calm voice. He knew that Kate wasn't here to yell at him or thank him. The profiler in him knew that there was a hidden agenda that the reporter had a plan and he was too tired for small talk.

"Before I go on record with my testimony," she started wanting him to know that she hadn't cleared him officially. "I wanted to talk to you."

"You could just tell them the truth," Cody conquered unwilling to give into her that easily. It was true that he felt incredibly guilty for what had happened between them but he also knew that he didn't make the cut. It had been Jeff who slashed her throat after all.

Beth raised her eyebrow because she was stunned that he seemed not as broken as he looked. She remembered how Jeff had approached him. Locking eyes with him, she crossed her arms in front of her chest and leaned back. "Is that all you have to say to me?"

Cody hated her in that moment. She was trapping him into a corner, forcing him to react. "I'm sorry."

"I woke up in the hospital with your image and for a while I thought you had done this to me. Honestly, it surprised me when I remembered what really went down. Because I absolutely believed you to be guilty."

The profiler took his gaze away and stared at his hands before he whispered. "I understand."

"_This is ridiculous," Victoria said directed at Agent Neidhart. "What is she trying to achieve?"_

"I want your story. That's why I'm here and you know that," Beth suddenly said and strengthened up.

"You already have it," Cody simply replied not looking up.

"_The judge won't like that one bit. You can't let a reporter talk to a suspect before she makes her testimony. They are going to give us a hard time," Agent Neidhart said in professional voice already going through the options how to explain that highly unusual action._

"I want the whole story," Beth added firmly.

"_She is blackmailing him emotionally and we are all letting it happen," Victoria snarled angrily._

"Will it make you feel better?"

The question took her by surprised and she gave him a puzzled look before she answered. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I would like to hear an explanation why this has happen to me."

Cody lifted his eyes and noticed something else about her. It was very faint and barely noticeable but it was hurt. She was hurt. He had hurt her and now she was seeking for something that would take that hurt away. He swallowed before he whispered, "It happened because you were stupid enough to get kidnapped by a serial killer."

_Agent Neidhart let out a whistle through her teeth and Sam couldn't really believe his words. _

"Touché. You've got a point. Is that making _you_ feel better?"

"No. But then again I doubt I'll ever feel better. I can't take back what happened."

Cody suddenly felt weak mostly because she realized that she had nothing to gain from him. He was right the story was hers because she was closer than any other reporter. She would be able to stretch this out beyond everyone else's story. Beth already knew his background and nothing he would say or do would truly erase that moment.

What secrets were left? None, really.

"Why Jeffrey?" She asked and eyed him curiously to catch his reactions.

Cody only shrugged carelessly before he graspingly answered. "You heard him. I think you know."

"Were you always gay?"

Her question caused him to laugh bitterly before he replied dryly, "Yeah, as far as I know."

Beth cursed herself for the question and nervously brushed a loosened strain of hair out of her face. The single curl bounced back and Cody thought that it gave her the sad image of a little girl.

"I guess he was just there at the right moment," he added quietly.

Agent McMahon cleared his throat and interrupted them by saying, "Miss Phoenix would you please not ask the suspect anything directly related to Mr. Hardy. This is already a very delicate situation and the more the case is discussed in details the more problematic it will be in trial."

Beth nodded slightly. She was about to say something else when a sickened nausea overcame her and she placed the palm of her hands on the table breathing in heavily.

"Everything alright?" McMahon asked concerned but she waved dismissively.

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Does it hurt?" Cody all of the sudden said and the older Agent as well as the reporter gave him an estranged glare.

"Yes, in fact it does."

"Sometimes I wonder how it would feel," the profiler said apathetically and folded his hand in his lab.

"_I can't believe he is telling her that," Victoria breathed out in surprise._

"It burns," Beth replied feeling out of place. Sucked into the strange place of Cody's mind.

"I'm sorry," he said again and lifted his eyes facing her directly. "I'm sorry I…"

His voice broke halfway through and Beth knew he was referring to the sexual content. She had asked herself a million times why, if he was gay, that would even be an issue.

The mood-swing happened completely unexpected form one minute to the next he lifted his eyes and more or less spat out, "I'm sorry I jerked off on you."

His words had everyone witnessing holding their breath for a second because they sounded so carelessly harsh. The only person who had heard him talk like that before was Victoria Varon. She knew that there was something darker inside him that only rarely surfaced.

Interesting enough it was a similar defence of Beth, who was unwilling to show her weakness, straightened up and conquered with a question. "Did you enjoy it?"

McMahon felt like he should stop Cody from answering, mostly because he could almost hear the fury in a judge's voice once he would hear from this little meeting. Everything they said could be used for and against Cody.

"You should not answer that question before Miss Phoenix hasn't decided whether or not to press charges against you," the older man warned.

Yet Cody didn't care. He had only cared about the charge of murder because he wasn't a killer. He could not deny what he felt when he was with her. It wasn't her or her body that had that sort of affect on him it had been the fear in her eyes. For once, a woman wasn't trying to analyze him, mother him, yell at him or haunt him as a ghost.

"Yes I did," he answered and McMahon lowered his eyes, shaking his head.

"I was always scared of people like you. You are always trying to see something in me that I don't want to be seen. I know that does make me a bad person but maybe that's all I am. I fucked up and because of me people were harmed, even killed. I want to sleep, you know. I want to hide and never talk to anyone again. I'm sorry and I feel ashamed for what I did and what I felt but the truth is that you were scared of me for a moment and I _liked_ that."

Cody stood up and McMahon instantly moved. Beth had her eyes locked with Cody and listened with a shiver crawling up her spine.

"I'm so tired of all this psycho crap. I don't even want to be helped anymore. Just go and press charges I don't care. I don't care about your story either. You can write an entire book about me. Nothing I say will take the moment away. You felt helpless and vulnerable and I'm sorry for causing you those feelings. Nevertheless those feelings made me fucking hot because no woman has ever looked at me like that before. You can hate me, punish me even but it wouldn't change a thing. I'm haunted by so many ghost's already I'm just glad you won't be one of them."

Beth wanted to say something but Cody wasn't done he stood there scratching his head whilst he lost control over his inner barriers and went on. "What am I even doing here? I'm giving you an exclusive interview at least that's how it feels like. Yet, for what? You really think the people outside would care? How long before they would forget and move to something far more interesting? It's been too long already and I'm fucking tired. I'm a pervert and a loser and never was anything else."

"Go away, Beth. Write your story and be happy with it. I don't care if you tell the truth, lie, or make something up. You wanted to know why Jeff? Because he just fucked me without telling me crap about how I'm not responsible for my father's actions. He didn't need experiments or profiles but knew what I would want. It's truly ironic that someone like him would know me better than I know myself."

"_Tell him to stop," Victoria suddenly said and reached for her medical bag._

Cody noticed the door to open and his voice became a little faster. For reasons he wouldn't be able to explain he needed that moment to let it out and in an odd frantic way brushed through his hair.

"Everyone always pities me because of my dad. It sucks because I didn't deserve pity and I never did. I watched them die, plain and simple. If anything, I think I'm such a pathetic version of a lunatic because I couldn't even do it myself. I should've slashed your throat because lets be honest it's what's in my blood isn't it?"

Beth flinched when he slammed his fist onto the table. Agent McMahon slowly approached him and whispered, "Mike, I think we're done here?"

Cody briskly brushed him off. "Why? Are you afraid that I'm going to attack her?"

The reporter instinctively moved back whilst voices soothingly tried to reach Cody. With a blushing face he continued with a loud and angry voice.

"This is what I mean. You are telling me that it's not my fault but don't even believe it yourself. I'm the fucking cliché of a serial killer yet what a poor one because I'm without a victim."

Victoria held a needle in her hand and her heart pounding heavily as she listened to Cody's hysterical laughter.

"You know that Jeff called you the perfect first victim? That was so fucking stupid of him! He should have got me my dad. I think it's funny that everyone says that I'm so full of hatred towards women. Because there are mostly women in my life. I've seen so many of them die for one thing," Cody's voice was filled with bitterness. A huge part of him couldn't even grasp that he was saying all those things.

Another part was unable to stop. Not even aware that defiant tears were dropping from his eyes he snarled. "I hate this. I don't want to be here and talk to you or anybody. Just fucking lock me up and leave me alone. I cannot change who I am or what I have become. I cannot even place blame except in myself. I'm so weak it's disgusting. You know I think Jeff is better than me. At least he chose his destiny while I'm always waiting for others to decide."

"Cody," Victoria softly said and flinched when he screamed at her incoherently in a loud tear-struck voice.

Agent McMahon made a step forward and grabbed Cody's arm. "That's enough…"

Beth couldn't prevent herself from crying. Not because she felt fear but because she realized that he was more hurt than her by all of this, that his enjoyment only added to his guilt.

"They were all bitches because they all fucking died," Cody yelled trying to fend the older man off.

A shadow washed over the profiler's face. Anger faded and gave room for something more desperate. Sweat drops poured down his face when he suddenly sobbed out, "They all fucking left me alone with his mess."

Victoria reached out for him and tenderly touched his arm. "Cody, please you're tired…"

He blinked and stared at her breathing heavily. "Did he kill her?"

Beth Phoenix slowly stood up and gratefully braced herself at an officer's arm. She wanted out of this place. Yet, she still listened to a conversation that seemed too private even for her.

"You need to rest," Victoria whispered and nodded at Agent McMahon who slowly rolled up the sleeve of Cody's shirt.

"Did he?" There was so much sorrow in that question that Victoria found herself nodding.

"I think you know."

The needle sliced through his skin and his body was instantly filled with warmth. Defeated and weakly he sunk onto the ground and tried to fight the nauseating dizziness growing inside his mind.

"He didn't. I don't want to believe that."

Cody didn't need answers he knew. Why it had reached him in that intensity he didn't know. Maybe it had been Beth and her striking resemblance. He hadn't dared thinking of his mother for as long as he could remember. Nevertheless, he knew. He had been there as well as with the others.

Whilst his mind drifted into a silent land of despair Cody could no longer deny it. He could no longer hold up the image of his dad. His love for his father could no longer cloud the loss. From the corner of his fluttering eyes he saw that they helped Beth Phoenix outside and he wanted to forget her.

Forget about everyone. They carried him back to his cell. Whatever Victoria gave him made everything numb. It shut out everything around him except his memory. There was only one left of his mother. Very faint and carefully buried deep inside his heart. He was four and remembered her yelling.

He remembered her dying as well. It was different than the later crimes. His father had cried and his mother had fought back. She had stumbled through the kitchen with her hand around her neck. Blood spreading out of her in an endless storm. Cody had silently watched it all.

Edward Chilton had wrapped his wife up in plastic and pulled up his son. Cody remembered his father's soft strokes and soothing words as he brought him upstairs to his room. His father had read him a story and kissed him tenderly on his forehead before turning out the lights.

Cody's mind had decided to forget all about her and it had worked for many years. It was no longer working because he had profiled himself. In his drug-bended mind, he figured out more about himself than before. Slowly he revealed his own inner-self to himself and hated what he saw.

He hated himself more than he could ever hate his father. There was a clear reason why he had always been so gifted in reading people. Because all his life all he ever did was watching crimes. Either personally by the side of his dad or through photographs. All his life he had told himself that he did it for redemption.

Now he started to believe he had done it because he hadn't known anything else. He could understand a killer and a motive. Could figure out the choice of victims yet was never able to fully follow normal people. So many times their actions didn't seem to make sense and were too chaotic to fit together.

A serial killer acts by following a never-changing pattern. People like Jeff have a clear goal. Cody never had. He was always following the road that was laid out in front of him. He had followed his father barely questioning his actions; he had followed what his foster family had offered. In his job, he had followed the traces he had been given to figure out the why.

Cody lay curled up in the bed unable to stop his mind from reeling further down. From the million of thoughts dancing wildly in his head he was unable to put them together in any other way. There seemed to be only one conclusion. Making stupid puzzles seemed to be the only thing he was good at.

He had never been entirely honest, never been able to socialize and in the end hadn't even been able to prevent himself from enjoying a woman's despair. Even though that was exactly what he was trying to erase from his poisoned mind. He thought of Jeff and couldn't help but almost wish to be in his company again. Because Jeff had been able to make his mind stop putting pieces together.

* * *

Agent Rhodes stopped talking that night. He was brought to a mental institution near his foster home and it took him two years before he started to use his voice again.

Beth Phoenix didn't press charges.

Due his bad mental shape and after being tested by three different psychiatrists a judge freed him from all charges. He said that Cody seemed tormented enough due the radical circumstances of his upbringing. In addition, Jeffrey Hardy surprisingly changed his testimony and while on trial freed the profiler from all suspicions.

Cody followed the trial with the media. Blankly staring at the screen he watched Jeff walking in out of the building day after day. He showed no reactions to the images. Whether they were about him or the killer. For two years all he did was stand up in the morning, eat breakfast and sit in front of a screen all day long playing apathetically with a Rubik cube.

In between several professionals tried to reach him. They all failed because they had no idea that he was having a wild on-going discussion with his demons inside his head. His body functions were reduced to mechanically fulfilling its duties.

Beth Phoenix released her book 'Sins of the Father' which circled around the story of Cody. The book was filled with heartbreaking facts and quickly became a bestseller. Nobody really cared that Cody wasn't commenting on it at all. If anything, the subject itself had become the most uninteresting part.

Another journalist released 'Bastard Son – A Story Behind a Serial Killer' only months later which used an authentic exclusive interview with the Frat-boy killer. It quickly became a huge success and only six months later, a well-known director started to work on a movie. In the end the studio, demanded a re-write and the Frat boys became college girls.

Too afraid of the Gay-factor they made their serial killer straight. The sex-scene between the main character and the female lead became one of the most discussed in film-history because it was basically a wanted rape.

The filming started around the same time Jeffrey was convicted for the brutal murder under special circumstances of: Robert Houghton, Richard Martin, Edward Stedman, Brandon Keller and Antony Manford.

They could not charge him with the murder of his brother Matthew because they had no proof. However, Jeffrey more than once admitted to all of those crimes including that of his brother. All twelve members of the jury came to the same conclusion and due the power of the state of California Jeffrey had been fated to die.

He had the choice between lethal injection or lethal gas. Jeffrey failed to choose and due the law a lethal injection would be used. Because he declined it no calls to the governor would be made. He had listened to the convict without blinking. A faint smirk circling around his lips when he had left the courtroom.

His own testimony had been wildly discussed in the media because he was arrogantly and carelessly confessing to the murders in detail. It was his way of talking about his victims and the darkness that lay in his movements that made him quite a pop-culture icon.

Jeffrey had shown emotions only once in the interrogation room. After that and during his entire trial he seemed uncaring. During the interview for the book, he gave a perfect performance of a serial killer cliché. It wasn't interesting him anyway. He had not shown any sign of affection when he heard about Charles Hardy's physical shape.

Because he was a prisoner on death row, he was mostly isolated and therefore cut himself of the world. The only thing he did whilst in prison was read. Mostly classics yet never commented on any of the books he had read. He declined psychological care.

Neither Cody nor Jeffrey ever saw the finished movie, which did fairly good at the box office.

For Cody, two years passed by in a cloud. One morning however he opened his eyes, dressed himself went outside of his room and approached the nurse's desk. In a clear voice, he slowly asked for the phone.

They stared at him in disbelief and called up Dr. Varon. Cody was relatively calm when he said that he wanted to speak with his father. Unsure if it was the right approach but incredibly grateful that he had started speaking again, Victoria arranged it. It was a cold December afternoon when Cody was sitting in her office next to the speakerphone.

Edward Chilton's voice floated through the wires when he greeted his son with the words, "Hello Cody."

It was the moment Cody found a never before strength inside him and started to finally put together the pieces of his own puzzle. With a slightly broken voice he said,

"Dad…I need to ask you something."

Victoria felt like a voyeur caught in a family drama and very quietly leaned back.

"I cannot promise to give you a satisfying answer," Chilton whispered.

"I just want to know why you killed her." Cody didn't have to say his mother's name nor explain his question.

His father wasn't able to provide an explanation and simply said, "She was just there when it started. I could not fight the feeling."

"I hate you," Cody suddenly croaked.

"You should," his father replied quietly before adding, "I love you, son."

Cody didn't need to say anymore. He didn't need to discuss this further. He had his answer. He realized that his father was a sick person. Forgiveness was not in his power yet he was able to make amends with a memory he had tried to forget. He cried himself to sleep that night and woke up with the goal to get better.

His demons wouldn't leave him alone yet he was able to control them just like he had before he had met Jeffrey. He was released another three years later. He moved into a small apartment and only had contact with Teddy and Victoria. Although he was officially no longer working for the Federal Bureau of Investigations, they still sent him case files.

They would play it in secret and call him an adviser. Safely guarded by walls he was able to help in nine out of ten cases. He barely left his house. Accompanied by a reddish feline named Parker he lived alone and isolated from the world. Cody liked it that way.

Being away from his home made him nervous. Yet, he had to go.

Almost six years after his encounter with Jeffrey, he was back in Los Angeles. He was standing at the counter of the L.A County next to Agent Neidhart who gave him a worried glance.

"Are you sure about this?"

He nodded and a faint smile caressed his face. "Yes, I'm fine. I just have to do this."

The Agent shrugged and respected his choice. She gave the staff member a nod and Cody was handed an ID card. It was a Tuesday and the sun was shining. It was the day before Jeffrey Hardy would die by lethal injection. Whilst Cody walked through the corridors, Jeff was sitting in a small room waiting for the ex-profiler.

It had amused him when the request for a visit was brought to him. He had laughed and said that he would be happy to see Cody again. However, he had also demanded that it would be exactly on this day. The day before he would die. Sort of a last will, he had joked and winked at his lawyer.

Jeff wondered what Cody would want from him and for the first time in years, he felt somewhat alive. It had been hard these few years, not because of being locked up in prison waiting for his death but because he had been deprived of his urges. He yearned for blood in an almost animal sort of way because without it everything felt painfully dull.

For six years he had lingered in a small confide space and dreamt of beautiful boys he longed to kill. Mostly it helped to distract from the image of his brother. It had been easier to ignore the mind numbing pain still raving over Matthew on the outside. It had become almost impossible inside prison walls.

Excitedly he stared at the door and waited for Cody because as before the request had sparked his interest. It was something to waste the time until all of this would finally be over once and for all.

Cody hesitated before the door. He wanted to see him one last time because he needed to find some sort of closure and believed that Jeff would provide it.


	15. Chapter 15

**The song used is _The Final Cut_ by _Coheed and Cambria_**

**Chapter 15**

"_**I have none. Never have I felt any misgiving in my soul; never did I think to myself that what I did was bad, even though human society condemns it. My blood and the blood of my victims will be on the heads of my torturers. There must be a Higher Being who gave in the first place the first vital spark to life. That Higher Being would deem my actions good since I revenged injustice. The punishments I have suffered have destroyed all my feelings as a human being. That was why I had no pity for my victims." – **__**Peter Kurten aka The vampire of Düsseldorf when asked if he had a conscience.**_

_In the final curtain call  
__You left me here with the coldest of feelings  
__Weight. Kind. Depression.  
__Blessing the floors with the places you've stepped in  
__Will they ever measure up to the way you left me?  
__Here on the roadside the bloodiest cadaver  
__Marked in your words: I'm the joke. I'm the bastard.  
__Here wait, so I guess that you knew  
__That you're…A selfish little whore  
__I'm the selfish little whore  
__If I had my way I'd crush your face in the door.  
__This is no beginning…This is the final cut. Open up. I'm in love._

If Cody had been honest with Victoria in their last session, she surely would have tried to change his mind. Yet, in his mind Victoria's opinion was no longer something he believed in or even listened to much. She was still trying to help him and he appreciated the effort.

There was one unsolved piece of the puzzle and that was Jeffrey. Cody wanted to see him, yet for different reason than most of the people around him would think. A long time ago, shortly after he had decided to live again he concluded something very sad, though figuring it out somewhat helped him nonetheless.

In all his sessions and all the pathetic tries of people who cared to start a conversation failed miserably. Mostly because not a single one of them knew the dark side of his soul. They wanted to find the reason behind his problems yet not touch the core of all – evil, as he secretly liked to call it.

Profiling himself had revealed the indubitable truth, he wasn't evil but he was able to do evil nonetheless. He had done it before. It was not what he'd done to the reporter that bothered him but that he had given in to Jeff even though he should have known better. Cody wanted an answer for his failure. The last answer he sought out in order to find peace of mind.

His heart was beating rapidly when he quietly sat down across from Jeff. Cody watched him closely and noticed the slight changes. His hair was different, he had it shaved. The baldness gave his pale face a sickened and fierce look. Jeff's facial features were hard and it was impossible to guess his mood.

There was undoubtedly a sign of amusement as he eyed Cody suspiciously. Jeff was curious as to why Cody would have requested this meeting. A somewhat mocking smile hushed over his face as he said, "Cody, how interesting to see you again."

Cody felt a cold shiver running down his spine as his mind remembered the soft lowered voice of this man. A man who had murdered, he told himself angrily and braced himself. "I would call it downright weird rather than interesting," he admitted, locking eyes with the convict.

Jeff grinned and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. The sound of metal clinging against metal made Cody notice that the prisoner was handcuffed. His eyes fell on the bonds as Jeff lit himself a cigarette and exhaled saying casually, "They had to make sure I wouldn't hurt you."

He winked and Cody blushed. The younger man shifted uncomfortably in his seat eager to get out what he had been holding in for so long yet unable to simple find a start. He silently watched the older man smoke and arrogantly leaning back into the chair. Jeff was very aware that everything he did had an effect on Cody and it amused him to find that still working.

"Why are you here?" Jeff asked curiously.

Cody shrugged and replied honestly, "I'm not sure. I guess I felt the need to see you again."

"For what? Are we supposed to be friends? Or allies in some way?" Jeff asked.

Cody had suspected nothing else and yet it still struck him and he felt momentarily lost. Mostly because Jeffrey was absolutely right. They weren't friends or allies but Jeff still seemed the only possible choice to confide in. Maybe because either way this would be the last time they talked.

"I don't really know why but I wanted to talk to somebody who knows me. As much as I hate it, you seemed to be more knowing than others. I presume it has to do with the fact that you are insane," he croaked and earned a cocked eyebrow.

"Are you calling me insane?"

"Yeah, pretty much. In a normal sense of view. You _did_ kill people."

"I had good reasons," Jeff hushed, exhaling more smoke and smiling.

"I don't doubt that you believed your reasons justified but you're still a crazy bastard who viciously killed innocent young men," Cody conquered.

"Viciously…? I wouldn't call it that, though. But I'd say I _viciously_ fucked you," Jeff growled staring into Cody's eyes.

The younger man couldn't hold the gaze and lowered his eyes, which made Jeff grunt out in laughter. "Is that what's bothering you, Cody? That we had a _thing_?"

"That's part of it, I guess," Cody answered honestly.

"I've read your book."

"I've read yours, too."

"Don't you wish you'd have let her die?"

Cody swallowed hard when Jeff asked the question. He thought about an answer and searched it deep down inside his heart. His voice was faint when he answered. "As a matter of fact I sometimes do."

For a few seconds the ever so confident murderer gave Cody a dumbfounded glare. He hadn't really expected an honest answer and therefore choked almost as he started to laugh.

"Cody! You never fail to surprise me. I'd half expected you to come up with a bunch of fucking lies. I like that new _you_. Too bad it took you so long…"

"Shut up. You know that it's not true. I cursed her goddamn ass countless times but I still wouldn't be able to kill her. You were wrong about that."

"And now you wanted to face me and tell me that because…?"

"I didn't come here to tell you that…" Cody realized that he was already in defence.

"Then why did you come here?"

"Can't you just be honest with me?" Cody suddenly said and wanted to slap himself for even daring to.

"But Cody, I was always honest with you."

"You lied about your alibi," Cody replied defiantly and hated to be trapped with his back to the wall.

"Excuse me but due to my line of work I couldn't very well tell you the truth since you were playing the FBI agent. It's not my fault that your _talent_ didn't work on me. You failed to see through me or rather you chose to not see the clues. Why are you bothering me with that? I really don't care about your self-doubting issues. I think I told you before that I found them rather boring."

"Would you have killed me?" Cody asked ignoring Jeff's harsh words.

Jeff gave him a blank stare before he slowly shook his head. "I'm really sorry to burst your bubble but you just weren't that interesting. Granted in the beginning I thought that you would be but you are so fucking broken. You've messed everything up as well."

"You placed my key card on the victim."

An amused grin washed over Chester and he grunted. "Touché. You're right that was rather stupid of me. What does the profiler in you say about that?"

"That you did it on purpose…?"

"Maybe I did. I can't really recall that thought. To tell you the truth I probably wouldn't have killed you because aside from your obvious flaws you were a great fuck. Seriously, I'm not just saying that. You are so fucked up inside of you that it's a pleasure to take advantage of all that pain. It's fun as hell," Jeff replied with uncaring laughter.

Cody made a face and ignored the nagging feeling in his stomach. He wondered if they were being watched. He had been told they would not record this conversation. They had also told him to be careful because even though the prisoner had been cuffed nobody would watch and therefore nobody could come helping him should something go wrong.

A part of him was truly fed up with being monitored all the time anyway and because his life sucked already he found himself grinning suddenly, saying, "What a fucked up couple."

"We aren't a couple."

"The media thought otherwise."

"Cody, do you want it to be different? You're such a loser, aren't you? I tell you what let's play a game. If you answer my question I'll answer yours later."

Cody instantly felt the heat rushing into his cheeks and he tried not to look at Jeff's hand. The prisoner struggled with the cuffs before he was able to slide his hand inside his overall. Jeff inhaled sharply when he wrapped his hand around his penis and gave Cody a devilish smirk.

"Fuck you," Cody tried sounding appalled rather than aroused and added, "I should go."

"Yeah, I guess you should. But you don't want to. You came here for a reason. You missed me, didn't you?"

A blush caressed Jeff's face and Cody could see the soft movements of his arm. He took a deep breath when he noticed the slight dreamingly gaze of the killer. Jeff was not taking his gaze away he enjoyed the puzzled facial expression of Cody far too much. The young man struggled with himself and it was visible through his body language. Shifting nervously in his seat, his hands wrapped tight around the arms of the chair.

"Yes," Cody found himself suddenly answering, but not really sure why he was doing so. He couldn't help but find the entire situation completely surreal. Then again, his whole life was a series of completely surreal events. He had witnessed murder first hand why should this startle him?

"I guess you missed getting fucked properly." Jeff's voice vibrated with his breath.

"Why is that even getting you all excited I thought I was boring?" Cody asked his eyes drawn to the masturbation. Once he finally was able to lift them he stared in the obviously agitated face of Jeff realizing that looking into his face was worse than focusing on the hand.

"As you can see there is no one else here. I haven't seen a cute boy in years. Stop fucking trying to sound superior. You've been thinking about me inside you whilst you jacked off and it sickens you. Fuck, Cody, play that fucking game and confess. I'll give you redemption once I'm done." Jeff mocked with a hoarse voice and a cold smirk.

"Not always…" The atmosphere felt cold and dark. The sound of scratching fabric through a few heavy strokes and Jeff slightly parted his lips gave Cody the feeling of wrongness. Yet he couldn't help but stare anyway.

"I bet you think of her, too. You wanted to fuck her back there, isn't that right?"

"No but sometimes I fantasize about it," Cody answered with a steady voice trying to ignore what was happening.

Jeff let out a growl and hissed, "Well, I guess you're more of a rapist than a killer then. You're a sucker for fear."

"It's getting old, you know that. Yes, you know what I did miss you. Mostly because of sexual reasons, yes. It felt good to let go and it felt incredible to feel such pain. What can I say; I guess I'm a pervert. I cannot believe I fucking let it happen! I can not believe that everyone knows you fucked me. I refuse to believe that you're fucking jerking yourself off while talking to me. In a fucking prison nonetheless, and you actually look like you enjoy it even. You're going to die tomorrow and you know what? I envy you because for you it will be over. You're profile is a straight line. You were fucked, you were hurt and in defiance you kicked back."

Cody gasped while he went on watching Jeff's blushing face, knowing that every word had a rather intense effect. "My profile sucks because it's flawed. It's flawed because of all those caring people. Foster-parents, psychiatrists and co-workers. You didn't care. Everything you said, everything you did was cold and painful and it felt better than caring."

Jeff let out a groan and his eyes fluttered closed shortly as he listened to Cody's truly enticing confession. "Because caring was getting me nowhere. All this faked compassion was annoying. I didn't want it because in secret I was getting hard by thinking about blood and violence. 'It's not your fault', they all said as if they had a clue."

"Aww, Cody so many disorders, so much shame and all you wanted was to be kicked in the ass very hard," Jeff only croaked those words before he cramped and his shoulders tensed. Slowly he relaxed again and very carefully retracted his hand.

He gave Cody an almost happy glare whilst he touched the younger man's hand.

"I thought you were healed," Jeff whispered hoarsely.

"I am, apparently," Cody replied dryly feeling the result of Jeff's actions smearing over his hand. He shivered but didn't move.

"You're not. Hell, you're crazier than me," Jeff said in a thick southern accent.

"I'm living in a small apartment in the city. I have five locks on my door and check them every two hours. I hate my reflection because I hardly know myself. I don't want to know myself, though. I rarely speak to people. Every now and then Teddy calls and asks how I am. I always lie to him. I never go out because I hate it outside. I'm scared to live and too afraid to die. I've developed a sexually deviant behaviour by masturbating frequently and add pain into the act. I tried the S/M shit and found it boring because I was given a safety word. I had to be thinking about you the most. Because you are the better profiler and I thought, I was good at that. I should eat more they say, but it always reminds me of my dad and I rather don't dare to think about him. I'm having visions of the victims," Cody let out a sad laugh before he went on. "I see them sometimes and I see you as well. You are a very annoying part of my mind that I would love to see erased. Don't get me wrong, I won't deny that I'm aroused by you. Hell, I'm even hard but tomorrow you will be killed. They will pump you up with poison and you will die. I'm not sad about that. I won't cry because I'm glad that it will happen."

It was the first time that Jeff was rendered speechless. More because of the sudden feeling of losing the upper hand than the actual content. What Cody hadn't fully realized was that Jeff didn't give a fuck. He shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest before he asked, "Will you watch?"

Everything so bravely and honestly said somehow felt shallow and Cody made a fist in anger. "Watch you die?"

"Yeah. You could, couldn't you? You were a victim so you'd have the right to. Listening to all of this pathetic crap and your miserable life seemed to suggest you should watch me die. You can find closure or something…"

"Sometimes I wonder how you were before you killed your brother," Cody almost whispered and they both fell silent. It seemed that mentioning Jeff's first victim had deprived him of this arrogant confidence. For the first time, Jeff took his gaze away from Cody and stared blankly across the room.

The older man was no longer willing to talk or to play. The whole meeting had gained a bitter taste and he wanted it to be over. It had been nice to mess around with Cody but now he was done. He hadn't masturbated successfully for a few months due the complete lack of energy. Not even the most violent images of taking a young boys life could change that.

Cody had helped with that problem and Jeff believed that to be a good casual thing. He was tired of the younger man's whining and self-hatred. He would certainly not share anything regarding his brother with Cody. Besides, he had shared it once and that seemed more than enough.

Nevertheless, when Cody stood up Jeff felt a stinging pain inside of him. Frantically he tried to get the emotion under the control but was helpless. A very simple emotion and one he hadn't allowed himself to feel for so long. He was scared. Scared of tomorrow and usually he didn't care.

"Will you watch?" Jeff asked again lifting his eyes.

For whatever reason it was only now getting to him that he was about to die. A dozen thoughts overwhelmed him. They all ended un-answered because he had no idea what he should expect. If any of the religions were true, he surely would end up in hell. But what was hell?

"Do you want me to?"

_Why should I want that_? Jeff wondered to himself but slowly nodded. It wasn't that he felt close to Cody but mostly because he was the only real person he still knew.

After being declared a serial killer his social status had dropped to zero and it was safe to say that not one single family member would be present for this event.

The question was did he want to be killed without someone at least knowing him? It didn't matter under what circumstances but at least Cody knew a part of him. Knew the why and probably could even figure the reason why Jeff had to do it. He had no regrets and felt no remorse for the victims. Those points of morality had been ripped away from him when he had been tied to a tree. Alone in the woods and surrounded by darkness. Jeff however despised pity more than anything. He had had a choice and he had made it. Inflicting pain on those boys had given him pleasure and satisfaction and he would surely do it again, if he was given the choice.

"Actually, yes. I would prefer if you spare me a psychological explanation for that and simply come. Besides it might fuck you up even worse and since you're obviously looking for that…"

Cody noticed that for the first time Jeff's confidence was downright fake. Yet, he found himself nodding, saying, "I'll be there."

With that, he left. When Cody stepped outside the building and breathed in the fresh air a smile caressed his face. Nobody had said anything so he presumed that they had been unwatched. It wouldn't have mattered anyway; nonetheless he was still a bit relieved that nobody had witnessed the rather unconventional situation.

That was not the reason he smiled, though. Despite what had been said and how much he revealed of himself he felt a bit like the stronger player. It had surprised him that Jeff's question for him to watch him die had been sincere. Cody was not too keen on watching someone die but he gained a little moment of satisfaction out of the fact that Jeff had shown something human to him.

It wasn't that he wanted to be loved or anything stupid like that. He had gotten over that already but he somewhat wanted to feel connected. Because that would give him his own made up excuse for the intimacy. There was a connection that had clouded his judgment years ago. That had deprived him of his natural gift. It didn't matter if no one else would buy that theory as long as Cody believed it.

* * *

It was almost three o'clock in the afternoon when Cody arrived. He was given another nametag and shown to a small room with chairs rowed up. A curtain in an ugly dark green covered a glass window. Cody sat down silently with his hands folded inside his lap.

His eyes wandering through the room and he watched the entering people curiously.

He noticed a few parents of victims but not all of them and he guessed that some couldn't bare the idea of being here. Cody was aware that some of them threw him piercing glances but ignored them by staring blankly at the curtain. His body felt highly agitated and he found himself moving his knee up and down.

Cody felt sick and could barely hide his nervousness the faster time passed. He wondered about Jeff and wondered what the killer would feel now. His dad almost had been killed by the state as well.

_What do you think when you walk down death row?_

Jeff wondered it himself for he was barely able to even hold on to a single thought. He wasn't feeling devastated. The truth was he barely felt anything, which partly was the result of some tranquilizers. He had declined them but had been more or less ignored. In the end, he had swallowed them.

Originally, he wanted to reply something sharply witty to the question for his last meal but ended up saying pizza. Because he couldn't see the importance and therefore was too lazy to come up with something original. He declined to see a priest by laughing out loud at the suggestion, snarling, "No, thanks I think I have to make amends on a different level."

As he followed the brown line on the concrete of the corridor, he was freshly showered and shaved. Nobody had visited him accept for Cody and his lawyer. Nobody had asked about either aside from curious reporters. Nobody cared about Jeffrey Hardy. Well, a few did.

Outside of the prison a few demonstrators waved their flags against death penalty. Jeff couldn't care less. He was brought into a white room and his eyes locked at the metal table covered by a white blanket. He found it sadly unspectacular and sterile.

Jeff couldn't help but feel the strong pulse inside him growing louder as he lay down on the table. Aside from very quiet explanations as to what would be done to him, the room was completely silent. They tied his feet and arms to the table and short wave of panic rushed through him.

He hated being tied up; it reminded him too much of the moment everything began, or rather ended. When they tightened the leather straps around his wrists he let out an unplanned faint whimper. He shifted and felt the restrains holding him confide to the table. It was then that his eyes filled with tears.

Not of despair but simply because he was scared. Somebody was reading his conviction and followed the protocol. Jeff turned his head to the side when they opened the curtain. He stared through the glass and noticed Cody. His eyes locked with the profiler because he really didn't know anyone else that was watching him lying there.

He wasn't feeling ashamed for what he had done but ashamed for his miserable position. An amused smile suddenly lay over his facial feature when he felt someone working on his arm. Part of the skin was wet with an antiseptic and Jeff shortly wondered why before he winced at a stinging pain.

The liquid spread through his veins and his nerve system and he felt his eyes becoming heavy. He was still staring at Cody when they injected a second essence into the same vein. Everything seemed to go so quietly and Jeff was disappointed. Yet, he himself was unable to even produce a sound.

Something inside of him suddenly rebelled against the affect of the drug. His body realized that it was dying and sought out to start all resources left. Jeff vaguely noticed tears trailing down his cheeks and unconsciously ripped on the bonds. He felt life rushing out of him and he was completely helpless against it.

His eyes fluttered closed and opened up again as if he was still holding on, though for what? He couldn't prevent it. Unless somebody would start moving a hand to prevent his heartbeat from stopping, he was inevitably dying. He was still unsure if he truly wanted that when everything around became cold.

Why are they watching? He briefly wondered about the eyes of so many strangers. In the distant, he believed to have spotted Matthew. _Interesting_, he thought confused over his sudden vision.

Cody knew the moment it was over. His eyes had been fixed at the dying body and watched Jeff's chest suddenly moved up fast and slowly coming down. There was nothing but silence after that. Cody stared into the lifeless face with a lump in his throat. He watched the medic declaring him dead and the curtain was pulled again.

The whole act didn't take longer than twenty minutes. Twenty minutes and Jeff was dead. Ironically that was ridiculously shorter than the time he used to torture his victims. It happened without much glamour. Cody wondered if the relatives of the victims had found closure.

He left, hiding from the press and quickly booked the next flight home. All the way to the airport, he was not showing any sign of emotion. At the airport his body, however reacted to his mental state and he found himself throwing up more than three times. Luckily, he managed to live through the flight without having to release himself.

Cody had not told anybody he was coming home and took a cab back to his apartment. He had not lied to Jeffrey. He was living alone and when he stepped into the small space that had become his safe haven, he checked all five locks on the door.

Tiredly he let himself sink onto the bed and was greeted by a red cat. He let himself fall back and closed his eyes trying to ignore the constant feeling of dizziness. His hand tenderly brushed over the cat that snuggled purring next to him.

A few folders were spread out on the table. Files the FBI had sent him. He hadn't looked at them and wasn't ready for another case. The phone rang but he wasn't answering, lying motionless on his bed. _Tomorrow I'll fall back into the routine_, he thought whilst his mind was drifting away.

* * *

**And that, my dear readers, is the end. I had a little tear whilst writing this chapter. **

**Thank you so much for reading and all of your lovely comments. Be sure to check out my new story **_Nuts _**that I shall upload tomorrow.**

_**Throws Cody cakes to everyone**_

**Loves ya!**

**Angel  
xxx**


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